There Stands My Angry Angel
by GataFairy
Summary: Peyton has a limited time to find a reason to want to stay alive. Her inner voice is doing all she can to help, but with death's promise of a reunion with her mothers, the choice is not so simple.
1. Catalyst

I disclaim: I own nothing. I'm just a wacky grad student trying to get out of a writer's rut.

I explain: I basically fell in love with the character of the Peyngel the second she made a comeback in 3x09, and since I'm big on supernatural/fantasy elements in fiction, of course I had to take what little Schwahnn gave me and run with it. ;D This is at the end of season three. We are to assume Peyton left the reception before the accident drama happened. It's AU and totally crazy, but it could be fun if you give it a chance. I'm having fun with it, and I hope you like it if you read. (Also, sunova, it's been years since I last used FFNet, so forgive the awkward formatting. It used to be so much easier to get LINE BREAKS.)

I am random: I just realized today is my eight-year anniversary at FFNet! I wanted to get more of this written before I started posting, but I'm a sentimental sap and I wanted the date on this to be the third...! XD; Regardless, I don't know when I'll update this (my schedule is fickle, as are my muses), but I have a good idea of where it's going with just enough room to accomodate for any changes. Here goes. Enjoy!

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There was something about those green eyes, nearly golden under the red eye shadow. They tended to be sharp, critical, and arrogant. Usually, Peyton was able to dispel the sadness they inspired by looking at her reflection, where the gold melted back into green and melancholy, the normal state of things. But now, gazing at those eyes in the absence of a mirror, she found them different – they seemed to glow, fierce with anger and disbelief.

For the first time ever, Peyton was calm in that stare.

"You idiot," the other said slowly, golden eyes narrowed and voice low, starting from deep beneath her stomach. "How could _you_ of _all_ people run a red light?"

"I was in a hurry," Peyton said and shrugged. It didn't matter enough to merit much more than that.

The other shook her head, white and black hair flying wildly about, settling only when she stopped to lean forward and point for emphasis. "Do you even care that you're dying right now?"

Peyton turned to face what the black-winged angel, or whatever she was, indicated. She knew she should be horrified to see herself beset on either side by doctors and nurses, that the sound of all their voices should be driving her mad, that she should be yelling at herself to open her eyes. But even the sight of all the blood did little to faze her. She only felt a dull stab of sadness, and through it, she smiled, that easy, self-deprecating half-grin she so often wore.

"I'm still breathing," she stated, neutral.

The goth angel gave a frustrated sigh, loud and punctuated by movement toward the blonde. "Barely! Do you even realize how close to death you are?" she shouted, and she paused, hoping for a reaction. All Peyton did, though, was stand and watch. "You are _not_ seriously considering this. Letting yourself die. You are _not_."

That hit a button, and finally, emotion pushed the blankness from Peyton's face. "Why not?" she protested, voice riding on old anger. "What have I got left here anyway? At least if I die I can be with Mom and Ellie again."

"_That's_ what this is about?" the goth angel shrieked. "You are _unbelievable_. You have _everything_ to live for! You're turning eighteen this summer, you've got an entire life ahead of you!"

Peyton crossed her arms as her eyebrows arched up. "When'd you become an actual angel to me?"

"I have _never_ wanted _anything_ but for you to suck it up and keep on living, so do _not_ blame anything on me."

"Fine. Then how 'bout I blame Brooke for hating me for feelings I can't control? How about I blame Nathan and Haley for having a perfect wedding I had to _be_ in so I could see first-hand what I was missing? How about I blame Jake for being sweet and considerate and _perfect_ enough to tell me to follow my heart? How does that sound?"

Duly worked up, Peyton had turned her back on her body and paced, walked a half-circle around the apparition in black until she was by her feet, her real ones, cut up and bruised from the accident. She met those golden eyes again, and this time she thought she saw something else in them.

"No. No! You are _not_ giving up on life!" The angel shifted her feet, restless and aching to move, but knowing that if she did, they'd wind up wandering farther from Peyton's body than was advisable. "You have to get back in there, get better, and fix everything you're not happy with. You don't give up. That's not who you are."

"And what does it matter who I am?" Peyton protested. "It is so easy for you to just say whatever you want and then expect me to keep going."

"You do _not_ have it that hard, so don't—"

In that moment, what would have been the angel's most triumphant and emphatic speech was cut short by the uninterrupted beep of a heart monitor.

"My heart stopped," Peyton breathed, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of fear, but a shadow of what short through the angel. Finally, the blonde recognized that other thing in the golden-green eyes – panic, once suppressed, now sprung from its cage to tear her apart.

"Get back in there," the angel ordered, eyes wide and frantic. "Get back in there! You're not that hurt, you'll be okay when you do."

"I don't want to."

"What? No – that's – you don't get a choice! Go back and fight!"

"I'm fighting right now, with you."

"You won't get to do that anymore if you die!"

The first attempt at resuscitation failed. The medics tried again as Peyton shook her head.

"Don't give up!"

"It won't make a difference."

"It will, it always does!"

"Nope."

Second attempt failed. Third try.

"Peyton—"

"If you want me to live so bad, go in there yourself!"

The angel stopped short, and in the long pause, the third attempt was made. One heartbeat, two, and then flat again. She could, though she wasn't permitted. She was there to advise, not interfere. But to let this girl die when there was so much yet to do – rules be damned, she _had_ to.

"It won't last," she stated, taking a step toward the body, decision already made. "I can only sustain your life for so long."

"So hurry up. I'm dying, after all."

"Promise me—" and the angel had to pause again, very briefly, because she never made promises, and she never asked for them "—that when you realize how stupid you're being right now, you'll go back."

This was their last attempt now, without sophisticated machinery. There was no time, and Peyton, for all that she tried not to care, couldn't help but oblige to the other's request.

"Fine."

The angel in black spared barely a millisecond to look back at Peyton before leaning forward and fading into the girl's body. The heart monitor reflected this, the beeping returning to a steady pace, and all those around visibly relaxed. Even Peyton, who had resigned herself to death, even desired to embrace it, was relieved to see the life flood slowly back through her. She would be the angel now, the voice that haunted her every day, and that darker version of herself would have to be her, the artist, the music buff, the girl with no friends and no love.

And already, despite herself, part of her was hoping that in however long she had to live, she'd find something that made her want to keep living.


	2. Rough Landing

I disclaim: I still don't own anything. I just worship at the altar of Hilarie. (That woman is vocal magic.)

I babble: Have you checked out your story stats page? It's amazing! You can sit there refreshing that thing for hours and have a blast! But you knew that already, and that's not what you're here for. This is starting to feel sort of _Christmas Carol_-y. Not my intention. I'll remedy that in other chapters, because that is not what this fic is.

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She only really became conscious a few days later. She woke up to red walls and shelves of records. Most of her time in the hospital had been spent sleeping, so she had not been able to adjust to physically interacting with her surroundings. The concept wasn't foreign to her, and Tree Hill wasn't exactly unfamiliar, but all her interactions with the world had taken place within the confines of Peyton's mind, what _she_ perceived.

With the roles reversed, the once-angel savored the warm blankets and the pleasing color palette of the room. She was glad she could hardly remember the hospital's terrible excuse for interior design.

"_If you like it all so much, we should've switched places _years_ ago."_

The once-angel groaned. So _this_ was what it felt like to have her thoughts invaded unannounced. _"This'd be a good enough reason for _me_ to stay alive. No matter what the world brings, your room is still your room."_

She could practically see Peyton roll her eyes. _"Have you looked at the drawings on the wall behind you? Ellie. Jake and Jenny. Yeah, this room is perfection."_

"Whatever." The once-angel exhaled and rolled over onto her side, wincing the second she put weight on her left wrist. If not for the brace keeping it in place, she'd have injured it further.

"_Way to go, genius."_

"_Shut up, Peyton. This could be you."_

"_Yeah, but it's not. By the way, what do I call you?"_

"_What?"_

"_Do you have a name? 'Cause I've got to have something to call you if I'm going to be heckling."_

And heckling she would be. Peyton was still alive, so she was not able to go and find her mothers. On the one hand, it meant that she would be there when her once-angel showed her what she had to live for. On the other hand, Peyton was going to abuse her ability to irritate her at will. It was karma at its finest, and she didn't have long to contest it.

"_I don't have a name. Don't need one when you just live in someone's head."_

"_Well, guess I'll have to give you one. You are _my_ formerly snarky goth angel."_

Said once-angel rolled her eyes. _"Go ahead, have a blast."_

"_Oh! Got one."_

"_So soon?"_

"_Yeah. P Two. Or P the Second, if you prefer."_

"_Those are ridiculous."_

"_Then name yourself!"_

"_Fine. How 'bout Mary, Mother of God?"_

"_How 'bout Eve, the first sinner?"_

"_Look, I don't care, just pick something."_

"_Fine. Eva. Slightly more modern spin."_

"_Fine."_

Eva used her un-braced hand to pull the blankets tighter around her body. She felt sleep start to roll over her again when the sound of the door opening made it pause, and the soft sound of Larry Sawyer's voice chased it away.

"Peyton, you awake?"

"_Dad?"_ said Peyton.

"Dad?" said Eva.

As Larry crossed the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, Eva turned over to face him. "Hey," she said, mesmerized by his eyes. There was such concern, such genuine love in them that for a moment, she felt like he was actually talking to her, not who he thought she was.

"How you feelin'?" he asked.

Eva thought to be honest, but she remembered just in time that she could not answer as she normally would. She had to play Peyton.

That in mind, she gave him half a smile and shrugged. "Been better."

Larry smiled wearily, and Eva wondered exactly how much sleep he'd gotten over the past few days.

"Came home as soon as I could when I got the call," he said, rubbing his hands together, just for something to do. "Kept thinking, if I'd been there, if I'd driven her to and from the wedding—"

"Don't do that," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You didn't know it'd happen. Nobody could've known." She paused as she filtered through truths she would've told Peyton and found less abrasive words to say them with. "I should've been more careful."

He didn't say it outright, simply nodded, but Eva – and Peyton – could tell that he agreed. The entire incident wreaked of one day ten years ago.

"I'm sorry," Eva said, for his sake.

"You're okay. That's what matters."

The silence that followed should have been comfortable, but for Eva, it was uneasy. This was one of those moments she would've pulled away from. She would have withdrawn to the darkest confines of Peyton's mind and allowed them as much privacy as she could. That reminded her of Peyton's newly-assumed role. For someone who'd been so talkative just a few minutes ago, she was as good as mute now.

"You hungry?" asked Larry.

Eva nodded, barely sparing a second for thought.

"I'll get started on something," he said. He stood, leaned forward to smooth back some of her hair, and made his way downstairs.

Eva waited a moment before throwing the covers off herself and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She took another few seconds to readjust to being upright.

Peyton's continued silence bothered her, so she reverted to her familiar jabs at the girl. _"That man making you breakfast downstairs? Damn good reason to live."_

When her words faded into silence in her head, Eva stood. She already knew what she'd wear, something to her taste, sure to please Peyton in her decidedly darker mood.

"_He'll leave soon,"_ Peyton remarked flatly._ "Always does. Everyone does. If I leave first, I'll just beat him to Mom."_

"_You're kidding yourself if you think life after death is going to be that easy,"_ Eva said, slipping into a shirt. _"And by the way, that's real mature. Hope you're proud of yourself for that one."_

"_Just don't fatten me up."_

Peyton resumed her silence then, and Eva continued changing. She'd eat her fill and start rebuilding this body's strength. She had a lot to do, and she needed to make the most of the time she had.


	3. Wicked Game

I disclaim: Still own nothing, and since I'll probably never email someone asking if I can please assist the assistant stage manager, I won't be affiliated in any way. Woe.

I babble: Thank you to those reading this. It's a weird idea for an OTH fic and I know it (trust me, I know it!), so thanks for taking the leap and trying this out. I appreciate it lots! I feel a lot less crazy knowing at least someone out there might be having a little fun reading.

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Eva had to hand it to Peyton: actually living life – being completely immersed in the experience of existing – was hard. It was an entirely different thing to sit back and comment on it without having to worry about the consequences, and that was what Eva was used to. Now that the roles had been reversed, she had to think about how the things she said and did might affect the reality around her.

Which, when she got right down to it, sucked, especially since Peyton conveniently withdrew when Eva actually needed her. She hadn't even left the house yet, but if talking with Larry Sawyer had been trying, she could only imagine what it would be like when she walked out the front door and had to face the rest of Peyton's world.

Of course, she had to make it out the door first, and Larry would be none too keen on letting her leave the house so soon after the accident. Eva thought about feeding him the cheesy line about realizing for the eighth time this year the value of experiencing every moment (an exaggeration she knew he wouldn't be happy with, given his extended absences), but she decided against it even before Peyton popped in to tell her what a horrible idea that was.

Eva was rolling her eyes and staring at the unplugged webcam atop Peyton's computer monitor when there was a knock at her door. She had to smile at that, though tiredly. Larry was a genuinely nice human being, but it was getting a little much to bear for someone who could just tune it all out until just a few days ago.

"Dad," she began, turning in her desk chair, "you don't have to kn—oh. Hey, Luke."

She was glad, suddenly, for the neutrality her detachment to the world afforded her. Where Peyton might've betrayed every emotion Lucas Scott awoke in her, Eva offered a polite half-smile (the one she knew was a Peyton Sawyer trademark), pretending that everything was normal. That was her gift to the girl who'd endured such heartache on account of this boy for the past year and a half.

She waved him into the room and stood to meet him halfway.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, voice gentle, low with concern.

She shrugged. "Got a few stitches here—" she pulled some hair off her forehead to show him the now cared-for cut she'd gotten above her left eye "—and if I wasn't terminally right-handed before, I've got no choice but to be for the next few weeks." She lifted her left wrist, brace and all, and let her smile widen into a smirk as she rolled her eyes.

He reached for her arm then, careful not to hurt her more as he turned it over as though he had some smidgen of medical expertise. The mask of professionalism slipped quickly off his face, though, and he grimaced, probably thinking of what pain she was in.

Eva watched him carefully throughout this long pause, watching him for any tells, reactions, lies flickering in the blue eyes that were burned into Peyton's memory. His concern was deep and genuine, and before she realized it, Eva found herself hoping it was deep enough to be rooted in the depths of his heart.

_Control_, she told herself, tearing her gaze away. This was not her life, no matter how strong Peyton's feelings were at any point in Eva's experience.

"Doesn't look so bad," Lucas said, after what felt like so long in Eva's mind.

Emotional distance regained, she could reply as if nothing had happened at all. "Are you kidding me? My fingers look like little cocktail wieners."

"No, they don't, they're just… a _little_ bit chubby."

"Right. Thanks." She shook her head in mock frustration and pulled back her hand, supporting it by holding her bent left elbow in her good hand.

"Did you hear about my Uncle Cooper's accident?"

Rather than respond, Eva tilted her head toward the computer screen, on which, next to an article, there was a photo of the boarded-up rails on the bridge.

"Ah."

"How's he doin'?" It was her turn to be concerned now.

Lucas scratched the back of his head, an anxious habit of his. Also a nervous one. Good God, the number of things about him she could recall was almost disturbing. She'd have to remember that to bother Peyton about later.

"He's still out," he answered, half nonchalant, half worried. "They say he's stable, though."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah," he said on a sigh.

"How 'bout Rachel?" She saw him bristle even before he shook his head, and she knew at once it'd been a bad idea to ask. "Sorry."

"It's okay, you don't know the whole story."

"The article was pretty detailed."

He sighed again. "She's crazy."

"You shouldn't be so hard on her." Before he could get another word in, she went on. "She's not _bad_. She's just… yeah, okay, crazy about does it."

"Thank you."

Eva lowered her head apologetically, then moved to plop onto her bed. Her mind was racing. There was so much she could ask him about, so much information she could extract from him in this short visit, and considering that she might not make it to the front yard today, she had to take advantage of this opportunity.

Luckily for her, he sat, too. The past few days had taken their toll on him as well.

It was the perfect opening.

"How are _you_ holdin' up with all that's happened?"

He gave another sigh, furrowed his brow, pressed his hands together and touched his fingers to his chin. "Worried about Coop and Nate, not so much about you now that I know you're not crippled—"

"Hey."

"Kidding. But now I know for sure you're okay." He started to reach for the back of his neck, but stopped mid-motion and let his hand drop to his lap. "Brooke broke up with me."

Eva knew to wince only because she was positive that Peyton would have, given her part in that development. Inside, though, she was celebrating. There was hope now, however small, and if she could make Peyton see that and cling to it, she'd want to live again.

"She wasn't too happy with me, either," she told him. "You should be grateful she didn't hit you."

"What?"

She pointed to her cheek. "Right there. Stung like a bitch. Thank God it didn't leave a mark, or I'd have looked like a mismatched clown at the wedding."

Now Lucas winced.

Eva shrugged. "I deserved it. Shouldn't have gone and kissed you that day."

"You were bleeding. I forgive you."

"Well, that's one person still speaking to me."

That remark visibly surprised Lucas, and the only reason it didn't affect Eva was because she didn't let the shock show.

She didn't know where that had come from. If something like that slipped out at any other time, she could chalk it up to a relapse of her previous condition as the uncensored critic of every aspect of Peyton's life. But to say that to _him_ was altogether different. It didn't sound like her at all. It sounded like—

Peyton. Eva had no idea of what she was doing or where she was hiding, but she knew the girl had been out of her conscious mind since even before Lucas arrived. That only left the interpretation of events she'd left behind before deciding she wanted to die.

Yes, that was it. Those thoughts were the only things that could influence Eva right now. They'd already done so, when Lucas had held her wrist. She'd experienced firsthand how Peyton felt for him, and now she was going through the loneliness that Peyton had allowed to overcome her.

"That's not true," Lucas said, breaking the silence and drawing Eva from her mind. "Your dad's home, and there's always Haley and Nate."

"Dad's gonna leave, and Nate and Haley need some space right now." The words were coming so easily that it frightened her, but all she let appear on her face was nonchalant acceptance. "It's okay. I mean, maybe I can get someone to come to Tric, or I can paint with all the spare time I'll have."

"Peyton—"

"It's fine. Honest." She felt a stab in her heart to say this, but she pressed on. "Wouldn't want to piss Brooke off more, y'know?"

Lucas gave a short chuckle, more like a sharp exhale than a laugh. "Yeah. She might go for your Achilles wrist now."

Eva laughed now, almost identical to how he had, and she let it fill the air for a moment as they both thought of the truth of that fancy. Peyton's regret was cold in the pit of her stomach. The sheer weight of it almost made her lose control again, but she fought for it, and rather than let her words come of a desire to soothe at least part of the ache, she made them a tactical choice.

"But don't stay away _all_ the time. Come say hi. Check on my wrist." She gave him a slight smile, more genuine than her previous ones, and she knew she'd played the part right when he smiled back.

"You need anything?" he asked, sincere.

She smiled as if in apology and slowly shook her head. What she needed was so much greater than what he could give. Despite how his mere presence affected her, she could ask him for nothing. She wasn't Peyton, after all, and this was about her. If Lucas began to grow closer to who he thought he was speaking with, Peyton would say – and rightly so – that he loved Eva, not her, and she would yearn for death with all of who she was, and then everyone would lose.

As they said their brief good-byes and he left the room, Eva wondered if her intercession would be worth it at all.

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"How long do you have?"

Peyton's voice startled Eva, and she rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was actually seeing Peyton at the bathroom door. Somehow Eva had gone from sitting to sleeping, and there was Peyton, seizing the opportunity for a face-to-face.

"You are just _lovin'_ this conscience stint, aren't you?" Eva drawled, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. Much to her momentary joy, it was long and black-and-white. "Gotta say, you fit right in. Too bad it's not your job."

Peyton rolled her eyes. "Funny."

"See, if you were _really_ trying for it, you'd have had this really witty comeback. Or not even witty." Eva paused for effect, pretending to think up the rest of her words. "Just blunt, y'know?"

"I'm familiar with your approach, thanks."

"Yeah, you wouldn't last a day doing the real thing."

"I don't care, okay?"

Eva stopped then, not because it was what Peyton wanted, but because the girl had earned her right to speak.

Peyton seemed to sense that in Eva's silence, so she crossed her arms and stared her down. "How much longer do you have out there?"

"Out there? I have all the time in the universe." Noting Peyton's confusion, Eva clarified, "You were unspecific as to what 'out there' you were asking about."

"As me. Pretending to be me. Living my life, trying to change my mind." Peyton turned her head to look straight at the wall with all her records, both bought and inherited. "I want to get this over with and see them."

Once Peyton finished, Eva stood. She approached the records slowly, wondering. She had to compete with the promise of a reunion with the two most important women in Peyton's life and the reality that, after some time, everyone else she loved would join her. The little hope she thought she'd found paled in comparison. It was looking as though it was something for Eva herself to cling to rather than persuade Peyton to live for.

Eva reached out, pale fingers running along the edge of a random record and pushing it in to align it with the rest on the shelf. "Five more days."

For a moment, Peyton was quiet, as though maybe she hadn't heard it, and then Eva heard her give that same little laugh she'd given Lucas when she was awake. The sound sent red-hot anger through Eva's very core.

"That's more time than I need, you know," she snapped, whirling to face her.

"Right. And how exactly are you gonna make me see how worth living my life is? Are we going on a _Christmas Carol_ trip through it? How 'bout we start in the school library?"

"How about we _do_? You survived that for a reason."

"And what reason is that?"

"That's not for anyone to tell you." Eva paused, this time not for the effect, but to make sure she didn't miss the moment when she saw the words land. She waited until Peyton blinked and tried to hold back a frown, then continued, "It's for you to find out."

Peyton shifted, uncomfortable under the cool ferocity of Eva's golden gaze. For all that she wanted to die, she wanted to know why she hadn't already, when she'd had the perfect opportunity to. Why had she been saved? Why did she have to bear the scar on her leg and her soul?

To remain silent and wrapped in her thoughts, though, would betray her, so she shook her head and met Eva's stare. "Dinner's ready. Go eat. You're too skinny."

Eva smiled, a subtle, wicked grin that matched the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice. "You wouldn't last a day."

She turned her back on Peyton and crawled back into bed, sparing a look at the blonde only when she was ready to wake. Then she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Peyton was gone. From downstairs came the smell of mashed potatoes.

Five days. She had five days to make things right, to make Peyton return to her body and let Eva resume her responsibilities. It would be easier if there were some right way to do this, but this was all thought up as she went on. It was everything she'd yell at Peyton for trying, regardless of the fact that those very choices were made on the basis of instinct.

But Eva wasn't Peyton. She didn't have the luxury of second chances and years of life left. She needed to think faster and smarter, and she needed to start now.


	4. Interlude

I disclaim: Nothing to do with this show belongs to me. Except some DVD's and the Friends with Benefit soundtrack. Which I adore.

I babble: So it turns out it's an awful idea for me to go to the beach around noon. Pale skin + family history + oh my god the Caribbean sun equals pain + exhaustion + sporadic joint aches. Was out of commission for a few days, hence the delay. (The other reason for the delay involves choosing from two options for this chapter. My inner editor was harsh, man, so harsh.) I will try to make the next chapter longer to make up for it. I was planning on doing that, anyway. XD

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Peyton had never thought about what went on when she was sleeping. She knew from health and science classes that the body slowed down and took to healing, but aside from the crazy dreams she sometimes had, she didn't really know what happened to her unconscious mind – to Eva. Did she direct everything Peyton perceived in dreams and steer her past the best dreams and into the worst? Did she sit back and watch as memories and impressions wreaked havoc on her? Or did she just leave?

She wouldn't have considered that if she hadn't suddenly found herself in the position to experience it firsthand. She thought, at first, that she should sleep, and that was what she'd done.

But she'd grown sick of sleep. Tuning out the world was like sleeping, and she'd done a lot of that since her latest discussion with Eva. Now, as Eva slept, Peyton was restless.

She had five days left. Five days. It felt like no time and forever all at once. Five more days of watching Eva fight her harder than she ever had before would be long and tiring. But it was still such a short span of time until she could see her mothers again, speak with them, ask for advice if she wanted to. Not that she would need it anymore, but she could at least ask them what they would have done in this situation, what they would have said in that one.

Peyton didn't remember enough about Anna Sawyer to try and imitate her in life, but she did have memories of Ellie and what sort of person she was. It hadn't been too much of a stretch to imagine what Ellie might have done in the face of a problem. Her strength had stayed with Peyton after she passed away, and it had seen her through a lot. She had even gone so far as to tell anyone who would listen that she was glad to have been born, happy that Ellie had chosen to give her a chance at life where another woman might not have.

If Ellie could see her now, what would she say? If Ellie were given the choice to live or die, which would she choose?

The answers coming to Peyton then sounded too much like Eva for comfort, and what made it sting was that she knew Ellie was capable of that acerbic subtlety. Perhaps it was genetic.

Peyton shook the thought from her mind. She didn't want to think about Eva during one of the few instances she didn't have to deal with her. Even when awake and dealing with the rest of the world, Eva somehow still found the time to make jabs at Peyton over something someone said or did that meant there were things worth living for.

She tried to act as though she didn't care, but the truth was that Eva's words were wearing her down. The once-angel was nothing if not persistent, and worse still, she knew what would jostle Peyton the most.

"_Ellie would fight,"_ Eva said in the moments before she fell asleep. _"She'd have fought tooth and nail to live if she__'d__ had the choice."_

"_Then why'd she give up?"_ Peyton countered. _"Why didn't she go in for treatment again?"_

"_Bodies wear out, Peyton. You know that. We don't know how long she'd been fighting. If she'd tried again, it might've done more harm than good."_

"_So much for fighting tooth and nail, right?"_

"_You don't get to judge her. And if you're that curious, you can just ask her yourself. Whether you die in five days or sixty years, you'll get your chance."_

That remark silenced Peyton long enough for Eva to drift into slumber. It stayed with the girl long after, echoing in the silence.

She hated to admit it, but Eva might be right. What did Peyton know about Ellie's struggle? She had never bothered to ask, and she didn't think that she ever would have. The subject had felt taboo to her, so Peyton had ignored it and focused on enjoying what time they had together, as she had believed then and told herself she still believed now.

And yet, in choosing to pass away, Peyton would get the chance to ask her. She'd finally get answers to the questions that had almost eaten her up in her grief. She'd get to ask her mom, too, what everything was like for her, and she'd get to know her.

But what if – and here was Peyton's continual downfall: the fear of the unknown, the untaken roads, untapped possibilities – what if either or both of them would be upset with her for choosing death? Would they not have chosen life if a real angel had given them the option? What reason would either of them have for wanting to leave their daughter behind? Why would Anna want to leave her husband?

For having been so certain when this whole ordeal started that she was ready to give up on life, now she was unsure. And it wasn't because she felt there was anything or anyone to live for – except maybe her father, though selfishly she still wavered on that. It was guilt that shook her resolve. The last thing she wanted was to run up smiling to her mothers only to be faced with disappointment.

Peyton was glad she and her dark angel were apart in sleep. She needed to keep these thoughts private, lest Eva get cockier than normal. Peyton needed to make this decision without being intruded upon in her weakest moments.

Eva might not know it, but her efforts were starting to pay off. And if Peyton wanted to win this, one way or another, she had to keep Eva from seeing that.


	5. Ripchord

I disclaim: I cannot take credit for anything about this show. I just enjoy it like the rest of the fandom.

I babble: Thanks so much for all the encouragement after the last chapter! It was so awesome to sign on and see all of that. I'm glad you all are enjoying this. I want to keep delivering good chapters now, and though I'm afraid of failing, I'm going to chug along. This chapter might feel a little tedious, for which I'm sorry. I already know what I want for the next one, though… which may not translate into a quicker update, but at least I have a north? XD;

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Eva was losing. It was so painfully obvious with every second that sometimes she wanted nothing more than to destroy every clock and calendar in the house. She wasn't the most patient of beings to begin with. She'd never had to be. If she had a problem, she simply aired it out. She could tell Peyton what a moron she was being the second she started to act it, and she could pretend to counsel her by hurling insults at the people in the blonde's life when they did something idiotic. She could kick and scream and throw things out windows and hurl black paint at the walls all she wanted, because it didn't matter. She didn't have to face the consequences, because there were none. She lived outside the real world, above and beyond it, in a place with different rules and definitions of reality.

And now those rules were going to be her downfall. She wasn't supposed to directly interfere in Peyton's life. Her job was to advise, to push toward the right direction (whether gently or roughly was not specified). She could even boost the girl's morale if she felt particularly giving on any particular day. Eva could think of countless many times when she'd wanted to take control of Peyton's life and make decisions for her so she could get past whatever was bothering her and move on with her life, because contrary to what Peyton thought, Eva did want the best for her. She just believed Peyton should earn it, so she stayed back and let her find her way out of her messes.

Fortunately for them both, after a few days of wallowing, Peyton would manage to pick herself up and try to set things straight. Then Eva could sit back and give both of them a break.

She had grown used to this pattern over the years. Peyton's lows, their fights, their mutual silences after the fact. It was a routine she'd come to depend on.

And then came the day it had all fallen apart.

If she was honest, Peyton's near meltdown had been a long time in the making. The weird emails and Ellie's appearance had started it. Summer had aggravated the situation. Jake had just left, Brooke was forced to leave the state to be with her parents, Nathan had camp, Haley was on tour, and Larry was at sea. Peyton had only had Lucas to depend on, and she had leaned heavily against him. Eva had been uncharacteristically subtle when rehashing those moments at first, but she'd seen it from the start: as truly as Peyton had loved Jake, she still felt for Lucas, she just wasn't seeing it.

Peyton did a good job disregarding those remarks, though, and the summer went on. Her father came back, Ellie came back, and Haley came back, all to be faced with antagonism and accusations that were both deserved and unfair. Brooke returned, too, and the pieces in Peyton's life tried to fall back into place. Of course, it didn't happen. Misguided choices on her friends' part, the death of someone she'd grown to love despite all her apprehension, and a flirtation with death that culminated in a ruined friendship and the guilt of destroying a relationship for the second time all came together in a symphony of failure on a day that was meant to be perfect.

It was no surprise, then, in retrospect, that Peyton had wanted to get home as soon as she could so she could drown her sobs in Audioslave and Feeder. It made sense that she'd conveniently forget about red lights and traffic laws, and that, when faced with the consequences for her actions, the idea of escaping the pain and the loneliness would seduce her and thus demand that Eva take action.

She'd had no choice. She'd _had_ to step in. Eva knew that the way she knew the stars came out at night. She didn't care that she couldn't think of a precedent for what she'd done, because this was one decision she couldn't leave in Peyton's hands. Against the rules or not, Eva intervened because she believed that if Peyton could just find that part of herself that realized she was worth the life given her, she could become great. She was willing to risk both their lives on that belief.

Seven days to succeed had seemed doable at the time. But she'd spent one and a half of those days out of commission, another confined to the house, and the vast majority of the next in the presence of Peyton's father. Time, an enemy she had never known before, was proving quite the adversary, and for the first time she could remember, she felt genuinely afraid. She wasn't one hundred percent certain what would happen to her if she failed. Peyton would get what she'd wanted in the first place, but Eva – she'd probably be doomed to wander the earth in solitude, like a ghost. She could think of no worse fate.

She was at the halfway point now. While she had appreciated Larry's company, because Peyton would have, it had gotten in Eva's way. She had one less day now, and she was feeling it. Peyton was having a hell of a time pointing that out, too, which did nothing but make Eva angrier and more determined to prove her point.

But while she was stuck inside, she was powerless. This would not do. She needed to win this, for her sake as well as Peyton's.

Somewhere along the line, she decided that the best way to clear her head would be to sleep. Peyton's body was starting to succumb to the high levels of stress her brain was processing, and the last thing Eva needed, on top of everything else, was for her vehicle in this world to become an obstacle.

In sleeping, she'd get to speak with Peyton face to face again. Eva was certain that even though by now Peyton had probably discovered that she wasn't forced to stay attached to her body's consciousness, she'd choose to stay. For all that Peyton liked avoiding her internal problems, she also had an intensely morbid curious streak. Eva suspected Peyton wanted to stick around and find out how the once-angel was doing.

The realm of confrontations, though, was Eva's home turf. Where she could hide her fears about this endeavor, Peyton would be an open book, and Eva could gauge for sure just how much more work she had to do.

Within what felt like seconds after shutting her eyes, Eva slipped from consciousness. She rolled over in bed, glad to be free of her injured wrist, and sat up. She turned to search for Peyton in the room.

She found the blonde sitting in the desk chair, scratching away at the sketch pad in her hand with her favorite black pen. One corner of Eva's mouth curled into a smirk at the sight, but it lost its intensity upon another few seconds of staring. Something in Peyton's eyes looked off.

_Am I winning this?_ It couldn't be that simple. She needed to be sure, and the best way to get Peyton to confess to anything was to get her riled up.

"What's the matter with _you_?" Eva asked. All she got in response was the scraping of pen against paper. She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. "Even in half-death, you're an artist. Guess it's in your soul, not your genes."

Peyton spared a moment to look up from her work and glare at Eva. The once-angel smiled cheekily until Peyton went back to work.

Eva snickered, stood, and stretched. The times when she could be her old self were few thanks to the switch, so she enjoyed them while she could. Hands clasped behind her back, she began a slow circuit around the bed.

"Your dad's one hell of a guy," she stated, nonchalant. "Total sweetheart. Makes the fluffiest pancakes, too." She paused. Still no reaction, but that wouldn't last much longer. Eva couldn't hold back the malevolent grin that spread across her face. "It's no wonder Brooke has fantasies about him."

Rather than respond immediately, Peyton took the time to finish what she was working on before tossing it onto her bed for Eva to see. The once-angel picked it up and looked. She had to force her smile to stay in place at the sight. The panels on the page depicted Eva carving into a wooden Peyton, dressing her up, attaching chains to her joints, and manipulating her like a puppet.

"Nice. But you forgot the one where I save your life."

"You know, it's almost like you _wanted_ this to happen."

The last traces of Eva's smile disappeared. "Excuse me?"

Peyton placed the cap on her pen and banged it hard on her desk to securely close it. "You're having way too much fun enjoying what it feels like to be alive. Today, you didn't even _try_ to find reasons I should kick you out of my body!"

"I shouldn't have to _tell_ you that quality time with your dad is worth living for," Eva protested. "You're always whining about how he's not here and how much you miss him, and then you go run a red light, which was absolutely brilliant, by the way. And even though you knew he'd show up after this – and if you didn't know, I could've told you – you decide you want to _die_ instead of spend as long as you want with him! You can guilt a month-long vacation out of him at _least_!"

"Yeah, like when I got shot, right? He stayed for two weeks, and then he was gone."

"If you'd asked him to stay, he would've, even if it meant losing a couple of weeks of pay. You told him you were fine, and he trusted you. If you switch places with me right now, he'll be at your beck and call, and you're not even as hurt as you were then."

"And then he'll leave, and I'll be stuck with _you_ for company."

"I'm not arguing over this anymore." Eva crossed the room and dropped the sketch pad on Peyton's desk, ignoring the girl's personal space to do so. "I gave you the solution to your daddy issues. It's up to you to use it. As for everyone else, Lucas'll come if you call him."

Peyton leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her. "So I can look at him and hate myself for loving him more than Jake, right? I ruined _two_ relationships thanks to that one."

"Oh, my _God_, you are _impossible_! Would you just—" Eva threw up her hands in frustration, then placed them on either side of her head as if to steady herself. She needed to be in control. This was a delicate situation, not at all like the everyday discussions she was used to having. She wanted to anger Peyton into an admission, but not it if meant working herself up to the point where she might let her own fears slip.

Running her fingers down the length of her hair, Eva sighed. "Okay. What if—" she began, but hesitated. She hated to start this way, because it was something like this that had gotten her in this situation to begin with. Besides, this was perhaps more dangerous than taking Peyton's place. "What if I can try to fix something you're not happy with? That's your biggest hang-up anyway, right? You don't want to go back to life the way you knew it."

If nothing else, she'd piqued Peyton's curiosity. The girl sat up straight, arms still crossed and stance still guarded, eyes saying everything she didn't.

Eva met her stare evenly, trying to suppress the triumph starting to grow inside her. In doing so, she forfeited a chance to speak.

Meantime, Peyton tried to read her. "I don't buy it," she said finally. "Something's off about this."

"Something's 'off' about this whole situation," Eva stated, "and it's the fact that I'm pretending to be you."

Peyton shook her head. "That's not it. You're changing course. You said you were going to give me a good reason I should live, and now you're saying you're going to actually help me." She broke the stare then, gazing now at the armrest on her chair, which she poked at with one hand. "That wasn't the deal."

"You're right," Eva concurred. She allowed herself a small smile and an arched eyebrow to try and mask the uneasiness Peyton's unintentional perception was awakening in her. "But the way I see it, this gets you back to the land of the living. Besides, if one of your problems is gone, that's a reason to live. So, really, I'm just _bending_ the rules, not breaking them." In attempting to convince Peyton of this, Eva wound up feeling as though she'd given herself a pep talk. Her smile widened, satisfaction glimmering in her yellow eyes. "This is your golden ticket, Peyton Sawyer. Use it wisely."

She could practically see the metaphor come to life behind Peyton's eyes. The blonde sat there, clutching the opportunity in both hands and deliberating between signing her life away to terms she couldn't decipher or letting what little life she had left take its course. There were promises on both ends, and unlike the children in the chocolate factory, she could turn back. Inaction and refusal would still get her something she wanted.

She would be a fool to give this up, though. And if nothing else, she could watch Eva squirm. Maybe solving Peyton's problems seemed easy to an objective observer, but Eva would have to do it while being convincing in the role of the punk-loving cheerleader. The second she broke out of character, the game would be up: the damage would be irreparable, and any chances there may have been that Peyton would return to her world would disappear.

The nearness of the possibility scared Peyton when she saw it. This was as much a gamble on her part as it was on Eva's. One misstep on her once-angel's part and she would have no choice but to die. Could she risk that? And, more importantly, would she?

"No."

Eva's eyes went wide. "What?"

"I don't—" Peyton stopped, shook her head, frowned. "It doesn't seem right. You always say my problems are my responsibility."

"And since when do you listen to what I have to say?"

"Since now, I guess."

Eva made tight fists at her sides. She'd blown an almost guaranteed success.

And yet, when she thought about it for a second longer, maybe she'd done better than expected. Peyton had called them _her_ problems, and if she still in some way considered them her responsibility, then perhaps she was second guessing herself.

It was too good not to call her on. She let her lips pull back into a full smirk.

"So you'll take care of them when you come back, huh?"

"I didn't say that," Peyton replied quickly.

"You didn't have to."

"I still have something I want you to do."

Eva crossed her arms, still smiling. "Name it."

Peyton held Eva's gaze for a few seconds, to unnerve her, maybe, or to try and get a read on what she really thought about this turn the conversation had taken. "Talk to Brooke tomorrow."

It was like a smack upside the head more than a blow to the stomach, but the order still left Eva stunned. That had been an encounter she wasn't sure would happen. She'd already decided that if she had to seek it out, she'd wait until the last possible second to do so.

It was out of her hands now, though. The game had gotten harder, and the stakes had soared. Conversations with Larry and Lucas were easy to start and navigate, but Brooke – well, to say that it would be a challenge would be an understatement. She'd do this, though. She would honor her word. Eva was no quitter, and the alternative was far worse.


	6. Brace Yourself

I disclaim: A friend of mine was in NC these past two weeks. That's about as close as I get to having anything to do with the show.

I babble: This chapter took forever to finish for entirely too many reasons, many of which were related (but not limited) to my body's decision to temporarily turn on itself. (Auto-immune diseases, dears, are awful things.) I'm sorry! I know you were expecting for this to be the chapter where Eva talks to Brooke, but if I waited until that scene was done to post this, the update would've come in September, and I didn't want to make you wait that long. x.x As for the next chapter (which _will_ be the one with Brooke, I promise!), that one might take a while, too. I'm watching as much Olympics coverage as I can, which is distracting, and I'm leaving for school in two weeks, so that adds a level of insanity to my last few days in PR. I'm sorry, again. ;.; I feel bad disappointing you when you've been such awesome readers/reviewers. I hope this somehow makes up for it, at least a little bit.

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There were a number of places Brooke could be, but given recent events, the likelihood of her being at the usual spots was low. That was what Eva would answer if asked why she hadn't gone out to find Brooke already. The more honest reason was that she didn't know where Peyton would start.

Peyton would know where to find her former best friend without thinking about it for too long, and she'd go straight there if she wanted to talk with her. Eva only knew the possibilities factually, not instinctively. She could only draw on memories of Peyton's most intense emotions to guide her, but that would do little to help. Right now, she needed something as strong as being around Lucas to evoke something beyond her and Peyton's control.

Unfortunately, the only thing coming to her was fear laced with hesitation.

Peyton would be of no help, preferring to let Eva suffer through this the way she had gotten through tough situations in the past. Rather than waste her time, Eva decided to go find someone who _would_ help.

She managed to convince Larry that she was fine to go out on her own and promised to be back long before dark and to call if she needed anything at all. She had to borrow his car, as Peyton's was still being repaired.

Peyton, of course, couldn't pass up this golden opportunity to torment Eva. The once-angel's driving experience was limited to what had been ingrained into Peyton's mind and body during her time as a licensed driver, but finding herself physically needing to call on those skills took a few seconds.

Knowing that Larry was probably watching from inside the house was no help, and neither was Peyton. Still, Eva managed to make it onto the road without incident. She wore a triumphant smile all the way to the door, which faded into a more subdued grin when it swung open to reveal her unsuspecting host.

"Hi," said Haley, recovering quickly from the surprise of the visit. What from someone else would've been an awkward laugh was apologetic and endearing from her. She stepped out of Eva's way to allow her entry. "I heard about your accident. I've been meaning to call or visit you, but it's been kind of crazy here, what with, well, everything."

Eva waved the words away, her feelings on the matter falling in perfect sync with Peyton's. "It's okay. You've had your accidental hero to deal with." She leaned against the back of the couch, facing Haley. "How's he been, anyway?"

"He's… he's dealing with it, you know. I wish he'd talk to me about it, but I understand why he wouldn't want to for a while." Haley sighed, forcing her small smile to widen. It was her way, Eva had come to believe in the year or so in which Peyton had interacted with her. It was something Eva and Peyton could always count on. One of the few things, Peyton would say. And Eva would remind her, none too kindly, to cherish that.

She followed her own advice, enjoying the proverbial calm before the storm.

"I only know what I've read online," she offered rather lamely, "so it's good to hear it from the source."

"Please," Haley chuckled. "_I'm_ still waiting to hear from the source."

Eva suppressed the urge to pull something from Peyton's time with Nathan to joke with. Those were things she reserved for conversations with Peyton. Her unintentional hesitation allowed Haley the chance to change the subject.

"I can't believe you drove all the way here with that wrist."

"It's not too bad," Eva replied, glancing at the wrist in question as if to confirm her thoughts on it. "I've got painkillers for when it _does_ get bad, so don't you worry about me."

Haley nodded, crossing her arms. Her stance felt guarded, but Eva would not attempt to intervene. That was for Haley and her own angel to deal with. Besides, Eva had a very specific goal today, and there was too much to lose if she didn't achieve it. She was already getting to know what failure felt like. Every now and then, her heart would beat irregularly for a few seconds. Her time in this body was running out.

"So," she began, feigning hesitation, "I need something of a favor."

"Mm, I knew it was too good to be true to get a visit," Haley teased.

Eva rolled her eyes. "Favor's the wrong word. Just…" She paused, though only because Peyton would. "Do you know where Brooke might be? I want to talk to her, and I'm not sure she'll be where she usually is."

For a moment, Haley was silent, and Eva imagined the girl going through all the possibilities as she had before deciding to come here. Eva wasn't sure if Haley knew that Peyton and Brooke had argued. It would be better if she didn't. It would be an obstacle otherwise.

"She's been staying with Rachel," Haley finally answered, slow and thoughtful. She frowned, not hiding her concern, and met Eva's gaze. "Is everything okay there? She acted pretty weird when she heard about your accident, and you guys weren't really talking to each other at the wedding."

Eva felt a prick of sadness in her heart, a reaction founded in Peyton's undying affection for her closest friend. She could picture Brooke caught between worry and anger, brushing the news off and marching away so no one would see her when she cried.

"I need to talk to her," she said, letting feeling and memory weigh the words down.

And Haley, bless her heart, understood. "She should be at Rachel's now."

"Thank you." Eva lowered her head for a second, quieting her mind, separating her thoughts from Peyton's. She didn't see Haley move toward her until the girl leaned in for a short hug. Eva returned it with a smile, reminding herself that this was one small step on the path to victory in more ways than one. She'd effectively found Brooke, and here was one more person who'd grieve sincerely if Peyton chose to die.


	7. Deconstructing Venus

I disclaim: I am but a traveling student. No ownership or association with the show.

I babble: I'm glad I finished this before I leave for school, because a couple of big things have come up that may very well bring updates to this to a screeching halt. (sob) I'm not sure that I'm happy with this (Brooke is difficult for me to write, love her though I do), but considering how this month has been so far… well. I'm just glad I managed to get this out before classes start. I know where the next chapters are going, but I don't think I'll get much me time starting next week. I apologize in advance. ): I'll try. I just can't make any promises.

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Before leaving the apartment, Eva got the address to Rachel's house from Haley, and she left after a quick good-bye. Peyton was silent as Eva drove. Though it likely wasn't her intention, she was effectively unnerving the once-angel. Eva was acutely aware of the beating of her heart, of its occasional missteps, and of the all too swift passage of time.

Her grip on the wheel tightened slightly, as if she were seeking anchor. She shook her head to move a few stray hairs off her face and cleared her throat. _"If you died, Haley would be heartbroken."_

Peyton held onto her silence for just a moment longer before answering, _"If I died and she were heartbroken, she'd have Nathan to put it back together."_

That was true, but Eva wouldn't speak to that. Something else caught her attention. _"Soundin' pretty quiet there. You giving up?"_

"_No. I just don't want to be there when you talk to Brooke."_

"_Why are you so scared of her?"_

Peyton faltered at that. Eva could practically see it. _"I'm not scared of her."_

Eva smirked. _"Sure. I'll buy that for maybe half a second."_

Peyton said nothing in response as Eva made a turn, careful despite the distraction that was this most recent development. She'd already suspected Peyton had begun to doubt her initial decision. This could easily be another crack in her armor. Yes, there was a possibility that Peyton was trying to lull Eva into a false sense of security so that she would fail. But for all that Peyton was intelligent, she didn't think the way Eva did. It wasn't in Peyton's nature to be so purposefully hurtful.

"_You know, for someone so smart, you can be really stupid. And you're a terrible liar."_

When Peyton persisted in keeping quiet, Eva pushed the thoughts of her out of her mind, bracing herself for what was to come.

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"I never knew you were so masochistic."

Eva held back about a dozen quick responses that would destroy her credibility. She had hoped Rachel would be elsewhere, but the door had barely opened before the redhead appeared, wearing that characteristic smirk, looking like she didn't even know she'd been in an accident a few days ago.

"I've got a lot more dirty little secrets where that came from," Eva said, arching an eyebrow. "Is Brooke home?"

"Yeah. But I should warn you: she's _really_ mad at you."

Eva would have to remember to thank Peyton later for speaking to Rachel the way Eva would like to speak to everyone else. Having to completely censor herself when it came to Rachel would be unbearable. "No, _really_? I couldn't tell when she smacked me in the face a few days ago."

"Ouch." Rachel grit her teeth, the largest amount of sympathy she'd allow herself to give. "Hadn't heard about that." She righted her features at once, allowing a smile to spread languidly across her face. "Don't worry. There aren't many sharp objects in the bedroom, assuming she hasn't snuck any in when I'm not looking."

Almost without being aware of it, Eva frowned. She had to remind herself that Rachel believed it was Peyton she was needling, and she had to reassess her response yet again. It was difficult, though, because so far, she was sure that, were this life hers or had she a body of her own, she and Rachel would get along amazingly well.

"Why all the concern for my safety? I thought you two were _super best friends_ now."

"Peyton," Rachel began, a hand settling lightly on her hip. "Just because I'm her friend doesn't mean I have to agree with her. She's mad at you, and I hear her out, but if you ask me, she's being a brat."

Eva resisted the urge to return Rachel's grin. "Uh-huh."

Rachel shrugged. "Whatever, you don't have to believe me." She stepped aside, allowing Eva entry. "Up the stairs, first door on your left."

"Thanks."

Eva half expected Rachel to follow her up and try to witness what might be the argument of the century, but thankfully, she didn't. It was strange how these people had such strong ideas about privacy. Eva had thought the details about Brooke and Peyton's word fight would have reached everyone's ears within twenty-four hours of it, but Brooke had offered none. The outcome of this conversation, then, would probably stay within the walls of this house even if Brooke told Rachel about it.

At this point, Eva would take what comforts she could get. Peyton had effectively disappeared from her conscious mind, leaving her once-angel with only memories and latent emotions to help her through the encounter.

She had to wonder, though, if Rachel had said anything to inadvertently prepare Brooke for this. Rachel had a knack for bluntness to rival Eva's own, and that alone made Eva consider her an ally in this instance. Brooke was every bit as stubborn as Peyton when it came to admitting she was wrong, and if Rachel had planted the seeds of doubt in Brooke's mind the way Eva had in Peyton's, it would make Eva's job marginally easier.

She hovered just outside the door, holding her breath, knowing that this could validate or destroy her intervention.

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Brooke was hand sewing a skirt when Eva walked in. She barely glanced up at first, and for a moment, Eva allowed herself to believe (foolishly, she berated herself) that the worst was over and Brooke was ready to be rational. But when the brunette looked up again, her lips settled into a straight line, and her eyes narrowed in a familiar glare. Eva had witnessed it before, but she had never been in its path. She understood now why Peyton had chosen to be absent during this conversation.

That thought was all it took to remind Eva that it wasn't _her_ Brooke was angry with. She started to feel sure again, found her groove, regained control over her thoughts. She could do this, and if she couldn't, she'd die trying.

"Come to rip this skirt apart like you ripped me and Lucas apart?" Brooke's tone was low, cold. It was perfect in every way, and Eva couldn't help but admire it. She remembered why she thought the girl was a good friend for Peyton.

Now came the hard part. Eva knew what _she_ would say in response to that, but would Peyton say the same? In many ways, everything Eva said was a part of Peyton. She was an untapped resource, a persona Peyton could adopt in life of she so chose.

Normally, Peyton wasn't that person. She would sooner play the martyr than the attacker. She could withstand more torment than most. But if Eva committed to playing the Peyton everyone was used to seeing, the game would be over. She needed the perfect balance. And though she wasn't certain, she pressed on. There was no other choice.

When Brooke didn't look up at her again in the few seconds she was silent, Eva took the plunge.

"I didn't rip you apart," she stated, grounding her voice in its lower registers, the way Peyton would. "I said I'd back off, and I did. Whatever happened between you two after that isn't my fault."

Brooke's grip on the fabric tightened visibly. "If you'd really wanted to back off, you wouldn't have said anything. No, wait, I take that back. You should never have kissed him to begin with."

"I was _bleeding_ to death."

"Don't defend what you did," Brooke retorted, giving the skirt a shake for emphasis. "And don't give me that stupid excuse about how I said I didn't need him as much anymore. That wasn't an invitation for you to go after him _again_."

"Fine. I'm not here for that anyway."

"Then why _are_ you here, Peyton?"

_Because it's life-or-death,_ Eva longed to crack a smile and say. Instead, she held her head up, inhaling slowly. "To talk. Hopefully without getting hit again."

Brooke pressed her lips together, taking a long, hard look at Eva. It was the first time the brunette was really _seeing_ her, noticing the slightly swollen fingers of her injured hand and the stitches above her eye. Hopefully, that would help Eva's case.

"You're beaten up enough," Brooke stated. She set aside her sewing and lifted her chin, defiant and proud.

But Eva could see the flicker of self-doubt in her almost convincing gaze. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling.

"So talk," Brooke prompted. "Not that there's much at all you can say."

Now it was time to improvise. Eva had years' worth of memories and a few days' firsthand experience to draw from. Heaven help her.

"Haley told me you were staying here," she started.

"Traitor."

"Relax. I _asked_ her to tell me."

"Stalker."

"I'd prefer 'concerned friend,' but sure, that works."

"Sure. A friend who's concerned with whether or not it's okay with me that she's in love with my boyfriend. Yeah, I'll get behind that. What else were you so _concerned_ about that you couldn't wait 'til school or whatever to tell me?"

Eva rolled her eyes, but inside, she was starting to panic. She needed to at least buy herself the time to suppress that before it destroyed her calm and loosened the bonds that kept Peyton and Brooke together.

"I almost died, y'know," she stated, her tone frosty and hushed. "My heart stopped for a few seconds. They didn't tell me so, but I think it was a close call."

Brooke's gaze turned hard. She was caught between resentment and genuine interest. Her heart wounds were still fresh, after all.

"That doesn't change anything."

"I'm not sayin' it does. I just thought you might want to know. Nobody else does."

Brooke shifted, uncomfortable under the too-calm gaze she believed was Peyton's. Eva, for her part, did all she could to maintain that façade. She wanted to tell Brooke the whole truth, for Peyton's sake, but to do so would be to forfeit Peyton's life as well as hers.

"Is it true that you ran a red light?"

Eva nodded. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Why indeed. "What do you mean, why?"

"You, of all people, know better than that."

Eva shrugged. She knew that, but Peyton had kept mum on the subject, giving only a few pathetic excuses, one of which Eva went with. "Guess I wasn't paying attention. A lot happened at the wedding."

"Were you trying to kill yourself?"

The breath Eva had taken in preparation for a quick response caught in her throat when Brooke's question registered with her. Brooke probably expected her to take a few seconds to reply. Still, no amount of time would allow Eva to find a definitive answer.

Maybe the accident had been just that – an accident. But what happened after had been borderline suicidal, if not completely so. Were things not so complicated, Eva would have harassed the answer out of Peyton by now, but the way things were going, doing so would make her efforts pointless.

Eva was left staring uncertainty head on, a reality almost as frightening as the prospect of losing this seven-day game.

She let the breath out slowly, shook her head, and shrugged. "I don't know," she answered finally. Whether Brooke would believe that was out of her hands, but it was the truth. "I haven't figured that out yet."

At first, Brooke didn't respond. She looked everywhere but at Eva, biting her lips, frowning, shaking her head, looking as though she would burst at any second. The silence was harder to bear than the cold look from before. It lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like far longer.

Her gaze drifted back to Eva, and after another shake of her head, she stood. "This is sick," she stated. "_You're_ sick. Why are you here? Are you trying to guilt me into talking to you again?"

"No, I—"

"Are you blaming me for your accident? I mean, if it even _was_ an accident."

"I'm just—"

"You know what? I don't want to deal with this right now, okay?"

Brooke was almost yelling now, something Peyton would have flinched at. So Eva, knowing this, stopped trying to interrupt. She simply watched, not needing to feign the smidgen of fear in her eyes, and not having to look hard to see the uncertainty in Brooke's.

"Okay," Eva breathed, a silent surrender. She held Brooke's stare for a few seconds longer, then turned and left.

.

Eva had expected she would run into Rachel on her way out, but, thankfully, she didn't. She didn't bother to ponder over how oddly polite that was on the redhead's part. She was too busy processing all the information she'd gathered just a few moments ago.

As she pulled away from the house, the noise in her head settled into a tranquil hum. The fog of Peyton's sadness lifted. She was present now, aware of her surroundings.

"_She thinks you tried to kill yourself,"_ she thought sternly. _"I bet everyone does."_

Peyton said nothing.

"_So, did you?"_

A few more seconds of silence, then, _"What does it matter? It doesn't change anything."_

"_It matters because I'm risking a lot for both of us by keeping you alive."_

"_I didn't ask you to. I wanted to die."_

"_So you ran the red light on purpose?"_

"_I didn't say that."_

"_But you wanted to die."_

"_Yeah, when I was suddenly standing next to my body in the hospital and I realized it could be over just like that."_

"_So it _was_ an accident?"_

Peyton hesitated. _"I don't know. I don't remember."_

Eva rolled her eyes. _"Great."_

"_What does it _matter_?"_ Peyton repeated. _"It doesn't change _anything_. What'd going to talk to Brooke do? Nothing. She doesn't want me around, and I don't blame her. I've done so much to her."_

"_She's worried half to death about you. How can you be so blind? Didn't you _see_ her? Or were you too busy drawing your little comic strips to pay attention?"_

Eva had to make a turn, so she was only aware of Peyton's silence as an absence of noise rather than an emotional response to her accusations. They were coming up on their street soon. She needed to be in control to face Peyton's father.

"_Brooke's not the scary monster you think she is,"_ she stated. _"None of life is. It's hard, I really get that now, but it's not impossible. It doesn't merit your death wish."_

"_Maybe not for you, but there's just one thing you're forgetting: you're not me."_

Eva took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. There were a number of things she could say to that, most of which would not be productive. She had to tune into the white noise in the back of her mind to calm herself enough to find words.

"_I'm a part of you. I'm not going to explain how, even though I know you don't really understand that, because it doesn't matter. I'm still a part of you, and if I can handle this, if I can face Brooke for you without the benefit of knowing her like you do and _not_ fall apart, so can you."_

"_You talked with her _once_. That's barely enough to say that you can handle living my life."_

"_I did what you asked me to."_

"_And I appreciate that. But it still doesn't change anything."_

It would take too much effort to reply, and though time was running out, Eva decided she could hold onto to her responses for later. She had just over three more days to change Peyton's mind, and as soon as she reached their bedroom, she collapsed onto their bed and dove into the murmur of thoughts and plans and possibilities in her head. It was crunch time. And now, this was about saving the scared little girl hiding inside her, crying for her mothers, not showing a whiny teenager that her worries were unfounded. With the objective clear in her mind, Eva knew, more so than ever, that she had to succeed.


	8. Handle This

I disclaim: Don't sue the girl with student loans she doesn't quite understand. It's a bad idea.

I babble: Funny things happen when you're stuck in an airport for three hours longer than anticipated. (The universe works in mysterious ways.) I wrote most of this while waiting for a plane. I thought it'd be up sooner, but my first week of grad school has been drama-tacular. I have a lot of work, but I think writing this will be a stress reliever. We'll see how it goes. Thank you all for your amazing comments and reviews. (heartmark)

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That night, Eva had her first real dream, one over which she had no power and into which Peyton was prohibited entry.

In it, she stood on the worn pavement of the river court, staring up at the hoop on the half of the court on which the local boys most often played. Memories played out around her, memories of the night Nathan and Lucas had played for Peyton, which Jimmy Edwards had commentated with Mouth before their friendship faded. She, invisible to those moments, unable to truly affect them, watched joy dance in the boys' eyes.

Jimmy had been happy once. Few had known his name, but he hadn't needed much else. He had his friends. Even when self-doubt tried to destroy him from the inside, he had people here to turn to, the high school outcasts, the ones who saw beyond the transitory splendor of their teen years.

If she was sparse with the details, Eva could draw several parallels between the now deceased young man and the girl she was trying to save. Both had felt abandoned by the ones they'd loved the most, and very human mistakes had been criticized to extremes. Their hearts had been pushed as far as they could go, and they had fallen, hard, and struggled to stand again.

But Jimmy gave up hope too soon. He let the pain poison him, whether intentionally or otherwise, and in the end, it took him away. Eva didn't blame him for his actions. He was just a boy, much in the same way that Peyton was eight years old again and yearning for her mother because she couldn't really digest that she was _gone_. Jimmy had drowned in the darkness because no one reached out a hand to help him swim.

She wondered about his angel, his inner voice, his conscience, whatever other name people had for her kind. Why had he let it go that far? Or had he tried his absolute hardest until exhausting all his resources and being left with no other option than to watch? He wouldn't have had the chance to intervene as Eva had because Jimmy's death had been swift. His angel would not have been able to ask or be given permission to sustain his life.

Somehow, though, Eva suspected that if he had been able to, Jimmy still would have died. His recovery would have been too long for someone like a personal angel to hold onto it long enough for the body's rightful occupant to leisurely ponder over whether or not to continue living. It was the fragments of grace such as this for which she was most grateful, in her case, for she'd had the opportunity. She knew that, had Jimmy's angel had the choice, he would have done as she was doing now. That boy had a long, productive life ahead of him, but life had intervened and cut the thread.

The memory glistened under dreamscape starlight, beautiful, nostalgic. Eva next remembered how unhappy Peyton had been then, and how, after this night, the roller coaster that her life had been until then became magnified by the girl's reactions to everything that came at her.

Peyton and Jimmy were not so different in that regard, but thankfully, Peyton's will to live was just as strong as her belief that her life was meant to be tragic. Eva could say with complete certainty that, had Peyton not run that red light (if it really had been an accident), Peyton would simply have gone home to wallow and continued with her life. But for whatever reason, she had been close to death, and having seen that door open, she had convinced herself that the easy way out was the best way.

They were both lucky that the crash had done more damage to the car than to them. Them, she thought, as she sometimes did, because though Eva was not directly involved in the sensory experience, she did share the space with Peyton. They were both lucky, then, because Peyton could be saved. Tree Hill didn't need any more tragedies, and even more certainly, Larry Sawyer didn't need to lose the last person he had left to truly live for.

The basketball game faded. Eva blinked, and upon opening her eyes, she found herself in the living room of their house, where Larry and Peyton were discussing the job offer that would increase his income but keep them apart longer. Kind, loving Larry wanted so badly to give his daughter all that he could that he didn't see her suffering. Eva had felt it acutely then, and she felt it again now, a needle pricking her heart like the tears they had fought back that day. Then it was a different day in the house, and they stood elsewhere, and Peyton asked her father to stay, and he listened. Eva's heartache lifted instantly, and she smiled.

She barely had time to adjust as her dream world kept shifting from scene to scene, memory to memory. The basketball player auction, where they and Nathan had truly reconnected; the day they'd been told their father might be dead; the day Jake saved them from making a huge mistake, and the day he left again; meeting Ellie, fighting with her, making up with her, telling her to leave, going to find her, bringing her to stay, the conversation about college, the day Ellie died; Pete, Jake again, ruining so many good things with some words said in her sleep; fighting with Brooke, and then back to the first time they had been torn apart by their affection for the same boy, one of innumerable possibilities for both of them.

It was so much in such a short time that Eva almost couldn't breathe. She remembered everything vividly, and in this dream, where she had little control, the joys and the sorrows collided and threatened to take her with them.

"_What does it matter?"_ she heard say. Peyton's voice echoed across the water, across the empty court bathed in twilight. _"What does it matter?"_

"It matters!" Eva cried, wanting to drown the ethereal voice in something grounded and real. "It all matters! It always does! Remember when Lucas told you your art mattered? It still does! It's all important, Peyton. Why else would there be lives to live? Why else would you fight yourself every day to become better, to be someone great? Everyone tries to, everyone wants that, and it's not wrong."

She remembered Brooke, the wall she had put up since finding out Peyton still had feelings for Lucas, and she could feel more than see Peyton pointing it out to her, rubbing her face in the fact that she'd failed to prove anything with going to see her.

"She'll forgive you!" Eva protested, loudly, desperately. "She held back so much, didn't you see it? She wanted to hug us and tell us it was okay, she wanted to let us tell her how sorry we are and how we wished we hadn't said anything at all because we hate to hurt her, and she wanted to tell you that she loves you.

"'_What does it matter_?' What does it matter that your moms are gone? You aren't! What does it matter that you live in this big house by yourself most of the time? It doesn't mean you have to give up! You have _me_. I am _always_ here, and so are all these people I've finally really _met_. They're wonderful people, Peyton, how can you not _see_? They want you to live! _I_ want you to live!"

When the last sounds of her voice had faded into the air, she could be sure that she'd chased the other voice away. But in the silence that followed was something worse. Failure, cold and unavoidable, clung to her like rain-soaked clothing. She tried to run despite how heavy her feet felt in her combat boots. She made it as far as the Comet before she saw her reflection in the window.

Shadows like hands grasped her heart and her throat, long fingers reaching up to her face, to force her to look at what she didn't want to see, searing the skin. The pain in her chest was unbearable. It forced tears from her eyes and gasping breaths through her constricted throat. She tried to pull the hands away, but what did her efforts matter? She was only harming herself, scratching her flesh, making trails of angry red skin and blood to paint the shadows something more gruesome than anything she'd seen in Peyton's darkest drawings.

Nothing mattered until she squeezed her eyes shut and tried for one last breath.

It filled her lungs so suddenly that she almost choked. She opened her eyes to try again, more calmly this time, and was greeted by mid-morning light and red walls. Eva lay in a tangle of sheets, her good hand at her throat and the injured one on her heart. As she worked to calm her breathing, she wiped moisture from her eyes and cheeks.

Her chest hurt, and her skin stung. She waited until she felt the strength return to her legs before stepping into their bathroom. Sure enough, there were scratch marks where she'd tried to peel the shadow-hands off.

She splashed water on her face and stared into the mirror, watching the water drip down her skin. Her hair, cut short and straight at first to avoid resembling Ellie and now being let grow in the hopes of evoking her memory more often, was tousled from her struggle in sleep. She brushed it into place, letting the mundane details of the task consume her so that she could more easily ignore Peyton's silence.

Eva went about the rest of the morning routine at an easy pace. By the end of it, the pain in her chest still persisted. She had no choice but to ignore it when Larry asked her to come down for a late breakfast. She ate little, and when he asked, she blamed her lack of an appetite on the pain medicine. She went back upstairs, saying she wanted to rest, and once in her room, she took one look at her recently-made bed and lay flat on her back on it, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as if it would tell her everything she needed to do in her last forty-four hours as Peyton.

.

That was how Nathan found her when he stepped tentatively into the room. He took a second to recover from the surprise and find his voice. "Peyton?"

"Hey," Eva drawled, sounding as tired as she looked. "Come on in."

"Hey. I was just—whoa. Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Eva sat up to see what had merited the question. It took her a moment to realize he was looking at her neck. "Oh."

He frowned, a mixture of curious and concerned. "Is that from the accident?"

"No," she answered sheepishly. "I dreamt I had ants all over me."

"Oh. That sucks."

Nathan was ever the eloquent one. In this instant, though, that was a comfort. He cared for Peyton, in his own way, and that was never going to change.

"So, what brings you here?" Eva prompted, offering him a half grin.

"Oh, Hales told me you came by our place yesterday, so I wanted to make up for the fact that I wasn't home."

"Mm-hm." Eva allowed her smile to widen to a smirk – a small one, but a smirk nonetheless. "I'll bet you anything Haley _made_ you come."

Nathan rolled his eyes, laughed a little. "She did have something to do with it, yeah, but I'm not a complete asshole."

"I appreciate it either way," she said, sincere in the utmost. "How are you holdin' up?"

He shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Better than Uncle Coop."

"So I heard."

"Yeah. He's better today."

"That's good."

He nodded, and in the silence that followed, she sensed the many things he was keeping inside. It wasn't her business, nor was it Peyton's, but neither of them would let it stay at that. She didn't need a prompt from Peyton to ask for more information.

"What's wrong?" she asked, dragging her pitch down to let him know she would accept no lies for answers.

He sighed, hesitant as he always was to be honest. Since it was her, though – at least, since he thought it was Peyton he was with – he would talk. There was an unspoken understanding between them that even Eva didn't want to put words to. She was simply glad for it, especially now.

"When I was underwater… I wasn't going to make it. I swear. But then…" He trailed off, and she let him take his time, during which he sighed again, looked down at his feet, drummed his fingers against one another, and turned to look at her without straightening. "Keith saved me."

The words were heavy, and they pulled Eva down with them, with _him_, into his dark place, or at least what little of it he was letting her see. So Nathan saw a spirit, or a soul, or whichever word he wanted to use. Except he probably thought he was going insane, like Peyton had the first time Eva confronted her in corporeal form.

She held his gaze, taking a few seconds as if to think up something to say. "That's pretty intense," she said finally, solemn. She watched a smile flicker across his face. "What?" she prompted.

He shook his head. "It just…seems weird, y'know?"

"Why?"

"Because Keith's _dead_."

"So?" She waited for him to frown at her before continuing. "Just because he's dead doesn't mean he's _gone_. I mean, I can't imagine thinking my mom is gone forever."

And there they were again, those invisible hands gripping her heart and throat. Wherever Peyton was, whatever she was doing, at this moment, the distance between her and Eva was negligible. They were at one in this thought, in abhorring the absence of their adoptive parent. That overwhelming sincerity extended outside of her, and Nathan felt it. He didn't even have to look at her for too long to see.

"I guess so. It's just…"

"It's just what? That it couldn't happen to you?"

He shrugged but gave no answer.

Eva heaved a sigh. "Listen, I don't know what happened that day, and I'm not about to try and be some expert on ghosts or spirits. But whether Keith saved you or not, the point is that you're here now, and if _he_ were here, he'd want you to be living your life, not sitting here wallowing in what _might_ have happened."

He nodded, letting the words settle in his mind and start to heal some of the inner wounds from the accident. She regretted not being able to tell him more, but only for a moment. He'd have his own angel helping him now, and if Peyton decided to live again, Eva was sure she'd help him.

It was only a second later that she realized she'd thought about her situation in terms of _if_ Peyton returned, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Nathan spoke then.

"I guess you're right," he said. "Thanks, Peyton."

"Anytime," Eva replied.

He stood and said good-bye then, since he wanted to get home and be a better husband than he'd been since the accident. She held onto her smile until her bedroom door shut behind him. Then it slipped away like a mask, or worse still, like her confidence.

The fact was, she wasn't so sure about anything anymore. It was all ifs and maybes now. Eva didn't operate in the world of uncertainty. No, her life was simpler, infinitely more secure than a human's. She'd never appreciated that until now, when lives were at stake, and when losing everything seemed entirely too possible.

She lay back down, simply for lack of anything better to do, and rested her good hand on her still aching heart.


	9. Falling Away

I disclaim: Still with the owning nothing herein save for the random plot bunny.

I babble: Most of the time, sleep wins out over writing, for which I apologize. It can't be helped, though. Anyway, the end is in sight, and I'm excited! It's been so long since I've started _and_ finished something on FFNet that wasn't a one-shot. It feels like it's getting a little darker (and a little theatrical, whoops), but hey, it's fiction, and I read a lot of plays over the last four years. It's to be expected.

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Finally, Eva gave in to her body's demand for rest. Finally, Peyton thought, because she'd had to endure Eva's stubborn hold on wakefulness. It might not have bothered her so much if she had tried to be productive, but her guardian angel had stayed in her room all day, listening to music, and avoiding contact with the outside world – all the things Peyton would do on any given day. Eva was playing her part too well.

What scared Peyton, though, was the dejected slouch with which Eva sat and stood. That, and the half-closed eyes – not half-open, as that would imply that there was an attempt to keep them open, where Eva seemed as though she could care less about the state of her eyes. Eva looked like her on her worst days, when she had no hope left until a song came on that had just the right lyrics to help her get back on her metaphorical feet.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Part of her wanted to taunt Eva about it the way Eva would harass her, but she couldn't. That wouldn't be like her. Besides, that wasn't a conversation she wanted to have when they weren't face to face. If she was going to talk to Eva at all, she wanted it to be in sleep.

So, finally, Eva slept, and Peyton blinked, and Eva was standing by the desk, hands on the back of the chair, eyes glazed over in disinterested thought. There was no lazy smirk on her face, no amusement on any part of her – just too-pale skin and too much make-up and empty, golden eyes.

Peyton wanted to call her on it. For a second, all of her burned to upset her dark angel, anger her, do anything to snap her out of this uncharacteristic silence. "Giving up already?" she yearned to ask, victory on her voice.

But she didn't, because she was afraid of what it might mean if Eva said that she had.

She crossed her arms and felt like a child waiting to be scolded. She wished she had some of Eva's strength, but none of it came. The once-angel didn't seem to have any for herself, anyway.

"It was really nice," Peyton began, "what you said to Nathan today." She paused, watching Eva, going on when nothing happened. "He needed to hear that."

Eva licked her lips, but even that small movement was slow, like every inch of her weighed tons. When she answered, which felt like it had taken so long in that quietness, her voice was husky and low. "I wasn't saying it just to him."

Peyton flinched, but Eva didn't see. She was looking at the blank computer screen in front of her, at her reflection. Eva saw in it the beginnings of surrender, what she fought so hard to chase away in Peyton. The irony of her defeat at its hands was not lost on her, and all it did was make her angry. She blamed Peyton for this, for giving up on everything, and she blamed herself for not being able to influence the girl further.

For all that Peyton had hoped to see some hint of life in Eva, when she noticed the cold fury in her golden gaze, she wished for something else, something gentler, more sympathetic. She was an eternal ingrate, and she knew it, but she couldn't help that she feared so many things.

After what felt like forever, Eva turned her head to look at Peyton, and the girl fought to remain neutral. Even through the make-up, she could see the marks of weariness on Eva's skin. It was then that she realized Eva was waiting for her to say something. She yielded in the heavy silence, saying the first thing that came to her, and wincing when she heard what came out.

"So you just stayed home all day, huh?" Could she think of nothing better? Then again, what else would she _want_ to say?

"I didn't have much of a choice," Eva all but growled. "I was tired."

"You never used to let me off the hook when I was tired."

"That's because you aren't feeling what I am now," Eva snapped.

Peyton recoiled, almost took a step back to steady herself. Her dark angel was harsh, sure, but she had never used that tone with her. She was almost too shocked to look at her eyes, but Peyton chanced it. It wasn't just the anger in them that reminded her of the day of the accident. There was something else there, something very familiar.

"It hurts all over," Eva continued, cutting off Peyton's train of thought, and as the once-angel went on, and the girl listened, Peyton noticed that the pain in Eva's body – in _their_ body, that only _she_ was experiencing – was in her voice, too, choking her, and maybe even frightening her. "Our joints _burn_ even when I'm not moving, our heart feels like it's going to explode in our chest. It hurts to breathe sometimes, and it's going to be worse tomorrow."

Peyton tried to imagine it. For a moment, she tried to will one of her fingers to ache that way, but soon she realized it wouldn't work and it was childish to attempt anyway. She didn't want it to be true, though. Her body was supposed to hold out. Seeing Eva in pain, hearing her talk about it – it was too much.

"It wasn't so bad when Nate was here, though," Peyton tried. "You seemed okay."

"My mind wasn't on myself," Eva stated.

"So go out tomorrow, go see someone."

Eva gave Peyton a pointed look, cocking an eyebrow. "Why? What difference will it make? '_What does it matter_,' anyway?"

Peyton hated few things more than having her own words used against her, and she was aware that this might be karmic, a taste of what she'd said to Brooke last week. She deserved that the way she deserved to be the one in pain right now, not Eva, who, for all her cruelty, had taken on a task not required of her.

She felt powerless, and she hated that, too. She wanted the pain to stop for her and for Eva and for everyone who just couldn't take it anymore.

"So, if you're just going to stay here for the next two days, why not just give up? Why not just, I don't know, let it go?"

"Give up?" Eva repeated, both eyebrows arched now in incredulity. "I don't give up. And I can't just let this go."

"Why not?"

"Because unlike _you_, I'm not afraid to hurt. Life hurts sometimes, and you've just got to bear it."

"So, what, you're trying to prove some last point or something?"

Eva shrugged. "I wouldn't be me if I didn't try."

Peyton shook her head and rolled her eyes, and for Eva, that was like the breath of life. It quieted the anger inside her, but not the fear she'd been trying to rein in all this time. Her eyes softened just enough for Peyton to notice when she looked at her once-angel again.

"What are you so scared of?" Eva paused, but when Peyton couldn't come up with a response, she went on. "I mean, really, Brooke can be scary, but she's probably just as scared as you are when you talk to her. She's just better at hiding it.

"What scares you so much that you're willing to literally watch yourself die? Because that's what you're doing, you know. You think you're watching me play some game, but you're wrong. I'm part of you. I'm everything you could be and more, so much so that your brain can't even imagine what I am, but without you, I'm _nothing_. And without you, your _body_ is nothing. I can't do this for much longer. I have less than thirty hours left, and if you don't make the choice to stay, there is no coming back. No reset button. Friendships you can fix, but not this."

Peyton had turned away by then, turned to look out one of her windows. Now, at the brink of death, she was more afraid than ever. But she couldn't let Eva see that. She couldn't surrender. If she decided to live again, it had to be a victory, or else she'd never hear the end of it.

Of course, in looking elsewhere, she missed the way the light made Eva's eyes glisten, a mirror image of Peyton's own. The only hint of that was in the barely-perceptible tremor to Eva's voice.

Peyton's grip on her elbows tightened, and she sighed. "All of it," she said finally, and before Eva could ask her to clarify, she pressed on. "All of it is so hard. You have to watch what you say and who you spend time with, you have to work hard in school and whatever comes after, college or work, so you can get a good job and keep yourself fed and clothed and sheltered, and for what? Other people? They always leave. And in the end, you die alone, even if there are people next to you. My mom died alone even with me and my dad right there. Ellie died completely alone. And I would've died alone, too, if you hadn't gone in my body."

"You weren't alone, though," Eva said, and her voice was soft and unfamiliar, breathy, almost pleading. Peyton nearly turned around to look at her then, but she held her ground. "I was with you. I still am. That's why you still have a chance."

Peyton shook her head, not to reject the words, rather to make them stop coming. "You should get some sleep."

"I am," Eva responded. "Physically. That's all I need."

Stubborn as ever, Peyton shook her head again. "Mentally, too."

Eva inhaled slowly, audibly, and took her time with her response. She needed to rest her mind, yes, but she also needed to foster the longing to live that she sensed in the girl who was fighting for her guardian angel to persevere. Eva might be exhausted, but at least she'd found a fragment of hope.

"I'm not giving up," she said, and she shut her eyes and let herself find full sleep.

Peyton didn't need to turn to know that Eva had gone. She simply stared out the window, at the stars and the clouds and the moon, and let out a shaky sigh. "You'd better not."


	10. Hold On

I disclaim: I saw a North Carolina license plate in one of the school parking lots, but there was no ownership of mine involved.

I babble: Midterm season struck so early this semester! :O I apologize profusely. I don't like making people wait. ): My creative brain shut off so I could get the bulk of my work and reading done (and it was a _lot_ of reading). I tried several times over the past month to sit down and write something for this, but it wouldn't come. And finally, this week it did!

I expound: There's a part in this chapter where Eva recounts a memory about Peyton and Brooke after Anna Sawyer's death. I did not make it up. Peyton tells it much better than I do in podcast #10 (available via a Blogspot blog you can find if you Google 'Peyton's Podcast'). I didn't copy it verbatim because it was too long and because Eva has a different objective in telling it. I love the podcasts because they offer little insights like that and because Hilarie's readings are just phenomenal. They are highly recommended!

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Overnight, the humidity in the area had mixed with the beginnings of Southern heat to brew a day's worth of rain. It came in a constant, gentle shower punctuated here and there with thunder from beyond the shore. When she woke and became aware of it all, Eva was in no way motivated to take part in the day outside of staying in bed with a never-ending mug of sweetened black coffee.

She was still out of sync with the physical reality of flesh and bone, but at least sleep seemed to alleviate it. The aches had lessened enough so that when she finally decided to stand and stretch, she felt no need to wince or groan. Her injured wrist creaked in the face of the weather, so she adjusted the straps on the brace to hold it more securely.

One warm shower and a fresh change of clothes later, Eva came to the conclusion that nothing good could come of staying here all day. It was as if she were already being judged before a supernal court, where, if she stopped fighting now, she'd have nothing to say in her defense and no precedent to support her, others' intentions notwithstanding. Her only hope was to succeed – _their_ only hope.

And despite what Peyton might want her to believe, all was not yet lost. Eva counted last night's confrontation as a victory. The girl was confused enough to allow the possibility of life to enter her mind again. Life, after all, was the only thing she knew. It held promises of improvement and success. Death was an absolute: the absence of everything that was. In death, she would be truly alone, and nothing frightened her more.

Eva could feel Peyton's anxiety over the thoughts even in the girl's marked separation from consciousness. She allowed herself something of a smile at that as she blended two shades of eye shadow with a finger. She might still feel weak in body, but her spirit was reassured, and she would play the part to perfection through the pain. She looked far better than she felt, but wasn't that the way with everyone? She would be at her most natural today.

She was rubbing the make-up from her fingers when she heard a knock on her door, followed by a curious voice calling, "Peyton?"

"Comin'," she answered, shutting off the tap and shaking the excess water from her hands. She met her father in her bedroom, who, upon seeing her more lively than yesterday, smiled.

"_Look at that smile,"_ Eva told Peyton, automatically giving Larry a small grin in response. _"And then tell me you don't want to see it from where I'm standing."_

"Feelin' better today?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, nodding.

"I've got to down to the docks for a couple of hours, but there's food downstairs for when you get hungry."

"Okay. But can I have a favor first?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, and Eva couldn't help but fall for the memory of joy this play at daddy's girl brought out in both of them.

"Could you drop me off at Karen's Café on your way there? I need to see the outside world today."

"In this rain?"

"It's not raining _that_ hard."

"No, but you picked one hell of a day to go out."

Eva shrugged, feigning innocence, knowing since she'd formulated the request in her mind that he'd say yes. He assented with a roll of his eyes and a smile, and she grabbed her wallet off her desk and followed him downstairs.

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She had almost forgotten the little details she loved most about the decoration in the café. Too much had happened between now and the last time they'd been here. But all at once it came back to her when she stepped through the door. Eva made her way to the register, looking around at the customers at their tables, those alone and those with friends, the vast majority with cups of steaming coffee on their tables as they glanced occasionally out a window at the gloom they were sheltered from. The cups reminded Eva of her earlier craving. She began to reach for her wallet when a tall blond coming out from the back caught her eye.

"Hey!" she called, watching with amusement as Lucas stopped for a moment to find the source of her voice, and holding her breath for half a second when he smiled and began to come toward her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she couldn't tell if that was a symptom of her body's condition or a reaction to his approach.

She thought she heard Peyton protest, but she wasn't sure. She did know, though, that the girl was paying close attention.

"Hey," he greeted once close enough to not have to yell. "Did your dad let you come here by yourself?"

"No, he had work stuff to go do, so I bummed a ride."

"Great place to bum a ride _to_." He grinned, fake smug, though she wouldn't have begrudged him a measure of pride. Truthfully, she wouldn't have begrudged him much of anything, but that was beside the point.

"You going to treat me to coffee and a doughnut?" she asked, overtly batting her eyelashes.

He laughed, drowning out what was likely a second complaint from Peyton, and Eva dropped the act at once.

"I have to buy some things for my mom," he replied, apologetic, "otherwise, I would."

"Well, it's the thought that counts."

He opened his mouth presumably to say good-bye, then closed it suddenly as a thought came to him. She would be upset that Peyton knew so much about his facial quirks if it weren't proving so helpful in reading him.

"You can come with if you want," he offered. "I can take you home, too, so your dad doesn't have to worry."

Eva pretended to think about it for all of half a second before agreeing, knowing that it merited more than that, given the circumstances, but more aware than ever of how little time she had left. This might very well be her last opportunity to talk to Lucas before— before whatever came next.

"_What the hell are you doing?"_ Peyton hissed as Eva followed Lucas to his car.

"_I'm doing what you told me to,"_ Eva replied easily. _"Going out and seeing people. It's doing wonders for the pain."_

"_Do you _want_ Brooke to kill you?"_

"_What does it matter? Aren't we dead no matter what I do?"_

Peyton sighed loudly, then went quiet as Eva got into the car. However, as Lucas started the engine, Eva had to honor Peyton's fear.

"Aren't you afraid Brooke's going to see us?"

He looked up and down the street a few more times than necessary before easing out into the light traffic. "She's the one who decided we weren't together anymore, so I don't see why it should bother her."

But he did see. Eva would have to be blind not to notice. "If you want her back, you have to fight for her." The words were a complete betrayal of Peyton, but he needed to hear them. Besides, Peyton would have said the same.

"You know, I feel like that's all I did last year, and it wasn't good enough."

"She's tough. She's proud as hell. No one ever said courting Brooke Davis was going to be easy." And no one ever said being a good friend would hurt so much. Her heart may as well have been tearing in her chest. She breathed deeply to try and abate the pain.

He shook his head, sighing. "It doesn't matter." His eyes, though, said it did. "Besides, _you're_ not afraid of her."

"Are you kidding me? I'm _terrified_."

"Really? Then why'd you get in the car with me?"

_Because you can help me bring Peyton back to her life._ Eva rolled her eyes. "Because I need a ride home, obviously."

"Oh, I'm sorry; I thought for a minute that you actually _cared_." He laughed, and she laughed with him, and after the happy sounds faded, he spared a glance in her direction. "How's your wrist?"

"Better." She lifted the wrist in question to examine it more closely, a habit that had developed over the week. "Hurts more today than yesterday because of the rain and the humidity, but it's not so swollen anymore."

"You should've stayed home."

"What, and miss this?" She gestured to the car, and, if they wanted to take it that way, to the buildings and people they passed and the rain pattering softly all around. "You never know when you won't be able to see this anymore."

"Wow. That's deep," he remarked, thoughtful and amused.

"It's the truth." She bit her lips, slipping unconsciously into Peyton's nervous habit as she thought. "My heart stopped for a few seconds after the accident." She paused, waiting for him to say something as he slowed the car to a stop at a red light. All he did was turn to look at her. She continued, "It didn't sound like I was hurt so bad that it'd happen, but for some reason, it _did_, and it made me realize that anyone can just… drop dead, y'know? Because it's their time or because they're tired of life or whatever reason."

"Or no reason at all."

She only saw the grief in his eyes for a second. The light turned green then, so he had to look forward. She had reminded him of Keith when her goal had been another altogether, but maybe this melancholy of his would suit her. He was pensive now, and she was pretending to be, so he would be willing to speak on a level beyond normal conversation.

"What do you think would've happened if I'd died?"

"You mean, what would've happened to _you_ or—"

She shook her head. "_Here_. I mean, I know my dad would've been… destroyed. But what about everyone else? I don't know if Tree Hill can take another unexplained death so soon after the shooting." She was twisting the knife hard now, and she didn't even have to look at him to see it. She should feel guilty, but she didn't. This wasn't about him.

Lucas took a deep breath, eyes on the road as he turned onto another street. It was a miniature eternity before he spoke again. "People are stronger than they think they are," he answered, his tone barely neutral. "But that doesn't mean it wouldn't have been terrible if— if something had happened to you."

He didn't want to say it. Eva didn't blame him. So she nodded and took the floor again. "When my mom died, I started looking for her at the funeral. Not wondering where she'd gone, but more like… her presence. I needed to feel like she wasn't _gone_, you know?" She paused, translating the all too clear feelings and memories into words. "But I couldn't, until later, when Brooke came over and climbed into bed with me and said we had to be friends forever because someone had to remind me how great life was." This time her silence was deliberate, to make Lucas think and Peyton remember. She turned her head away, looked out the passenger's side window, and said, voice low, "I wonder if she remembers that."

Peyton said nothing at all, but Eva could feel her thinking about the past. The once-angel had dug deep for those words and that memory, which for the longest time, even she had forgotten about. Peyton and Brooke had been inseparable, each other's rocks in a too-uncertain world. They had been through so much that had marked them for life. More than wondering if Brooke remembered, Eva had brought it up to remind Peyton of childhood promises made in earnest and kept for so long. Peyton was lost in memory and grief, and Eva absorbed the silence.

Lucas, too, was probably wrapped up in thoughts of the girl for whom he'd more than once professed his love. Eva endured Peyton's heart pangs over this as well. It was not for her to influence his affection, even in the face of near desperation. If Lucas loved Brooke, it had to be that way, no matter how bitter the taste that left in Peyton's mouth, or, right now, in Eva's own.

She would not mention to him the visit to speak to the brunette and how hurt she was that her love seemed not to be reciprocated. Eva would have to reveal Peyton's feelings for him, part of the purpose of that visit having been to apologize for what Peyton could not control.

"Sorry," Eva said, once she felt silence had gone on long enough, the word less for Lucas' benefit and more for Peyton's.

Lucas shook his head as he pulled into a spot in the grocery store parking lot, dismissing the apology. Shutting the car off, he sighed. "I wouldn't worry about it. She keeps her promises. If she hasn't already remembered, she will."

Eva nodded, offering a half-hearted smile in apology and response, the only kind appropriate for the moment, and walked alongside him as he went into the store, list in hand. She was his accomplice in letting rest the moment that had just passed. She made mental remarks about nearly everything, urging Peyton to notice the sweetness of the mundane and the joy of being near the one she loved even if only in friendship.

"_It may hurt,"_ she said, _"but at least you'll be feeling something. You don't know what death is. You don't understand eternity, not even I do. But this life you were given, this you _do_ understand, this you _can_ change. Ellie could have denied you life, but she didn't. Have you ever thought about why? Well, think about it, because this is all up to you. Life is yours for the taking."_

And now, with roughly twenty-four hours left, Eva all but begged inside herself that Peyton would take it.


	11. Swallowed

I disclaim: I own plush toys and little more.

I babble: There are no words for this past month, except that this story was definitely not on the top of my priority list. (It would figure that I get back to this when I'm writing a term paper.) I'm not out of the woods yet, and there's still a little more in this to go (the end is in plain sight – how bittersweet!), but I figured if I waited 'til it was all done, this'd wind up getting uploaded in December. So in the interest of not making you wait any longer, here is this. I hope you enjoy it.

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Even in the company of a friend and the change in surroundings, their body was weakening. Eva requested to steer the small shopping cart mainly to support herself when her knees felt ready to give out from under her, and when Lucas wasn't looking, she bit her lip and grimaced and took deep, silent breaths. If he caught her mid-wince, she would blame her wrist for her discomfort and insist that she would be fine once she took her medication.

She took her time turning into the aisles after him so she could press a hand to her heart and make sure it was beating at a somewhat steady rhythm. She wasn't certain anymore what that meant for their heart, with all its odd skipping and pauses and the pain that shot across her chest for fractions of a second at a time. Sitting in the car had been so simple, she thought, but walking must have been putting an entirely different strain on their body.

Yet she refused to give in and ask to be returned home. _"It hurts,"_ she told Peyton, _"but isn't it worth it?"_ It was to Eva. She might not be the hypercritical entity she was not long ago, but she was still phenomenally stubborn.

"_Go home,"_ Peyton pleaded more than commanded. _"Everyone who sees you will know something's wrong."_

"_Maybe one of them will stop to say something nice."_

"You sure you're okay there?" Lucas asked, and it was only then that Eva realized she'd taken a misstep and rattled a shelf full of glass jars of jelly.

The clanking of glass still rang in her ears as she straightened, but she forced a smile anyway and nodded. "Got distracted."

He didn't seem to believe her at first, but when she gave him a playful glare, he said nothing more and went on to find the next item on his mother's list.

"_He cares, see?"_ Eva persisted, though now she made sure she was concentrating more on the tangible. _"It's worth people thinking we're crazy."_

Peyton made no attempt to reply, to Eva's relief. The once-angel breathed sigh and followed the blond boy over to the next aisle, ignoring the headache that was slowly but surely intensifying.

"Is your dad staying for Christmas?"

The question drew Eva out of the haze of forced physical composure, and she had to inhale as if to inflate herself to look up at him. He seemed to take it as a comical display of exaggerated attention, and in the few seconds he took to laugh quietly at her, she repeated his question in her head.

"I don't know. He might, but he's missed a week of work already, so…" She trailed off and shrugged. "He'll definitely be home Christmas Day, at least."

He nodded solemnly, and Eva had to look away. She couldn't tell if it was because of the sincerity in his eyes or the yearning carved into Peyton's bones or the fact that this body was all but outright rejecting her, but she had felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She refused to let them dictate what she had to say and do. Her pride would not allow her to give in.

When they reached the end of his list, he noticed the effort she seemed to be making to walk. He got them through the checkout line as quickly as possible, and once they were at his car, he insisted that she go sit inside while he packed his purchases in the trunk. "Wouldn't want you getting sick so soon after all you've been through," he said, and she, duly convinced, obliged. She probably wouldn't have been able to stand for much longer without a rest, anyway.

He drove her home, talking with her as if the past week had been like any other, as if they hadn't at all touched upon the subject of death and the mysterious thereafter just under an hour ago. If Peyton could be seen then, they would see her curled up and crying in wretched half-silence, telling Lucas that she loved him and a non-present Brooke that she loved her, too, and that she was sorry, and telling her father that she wanted to die and take him with her so they could be with Anna again, and telling the ghost of Ellie that she'd tried and failed.

But she was invisible, half-present, and it was all Eva could do to suppress the emotions bearing on her like an unforgiving storm. Were their consciousnesses bleeding into one another? Would they, by tomorrow morning? She had no way of knowing, but if this moment was any indication, all her energy would be spent keeping Peyton's influence at bay unless she asked to take her life back.

She didn't exit the car right away when he pulled over in front of her house. Instead she breathed away the beginnings of tears and draped her hands over her knees. Her heart was beating out a complicated rhythm all its own, and she felt lightheaded. He watched and waited in silence as she pulled the whole of herself together and, finally, turned to face him for their last good-bye.

"I'm sorry about you and Brooke," she said, and as he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head and spoke before he could. "It doesn't matter if it would've happened further down the road or not. If you weren't meant to be, you should've at least been able to talk it out and be friends right now. So…I'm sorry that it didn't go that way."

He nodded, offering a barely audible thank you, unaware that her pause was more because she'd felt so out of breath she thought she'd started to choke. Licking her dry lips, she went on, "You deserve to get what you want, whatever that may be."

At that he smiled, that bashful, little boy smile that Peyton would lie in bed and think about sometimes. She ignored the flutter that crossed her heart in the second he looked away, and said in secret,_ "And so do you."_

Then, without waiting for anyone's reaction or permission, she reached over and wrapped him in as fierce a hug as she could manage, and Lucas smiled, and Peyton wept, and Eva squeezed her eyes shut and bit down hard on her lip. Her body yearned to stay like this, near to him, his strong arms around her and making her feel safer than she had ever known possible. She almost let herself believe that she could love him, too.

But she knew otherwise, and though she longed then to tell him the truth about who she was and what she was after and how he could solve everything with just three words, she kept it all inside and pulled away. She didn't care then what he might see in her eyes, unspeakable mysteries of the universe that very few could truly comprehend. She gave him the most sincere smile she could muster as she opened the door and said softly, "'Bye, Luke."

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Thunder had rolled in while she slept, the sun now completely hidden behind clouds spanning the sky in all directions. The rain, now more fierce in its decent, tapped a steady rhythm on their bedroom windows. Eva remembered absently looking around the house for Larry when she'd returned and going upstairs upon realizing she was alone in the house. The rest of the time since then had been spent in dreams of everything and nothing at once.

She felt worse than she had before sleeping. Awareness came slowly. Her eyelids felt heavy, as did the rest of her. She inhaled deeply to try and wake her body up and instantly noticed the weight of bed sheets atop her. That was right, she recalled. She'd felt cold earlier and had buried herself beneath the layers of orange and red fabric. Now she was starting to regret the choice. Her hair had stuck to her skin, but she couldn't find the strength to lift a hand and push her bangs off her face. She shifted anyway, hoping that the attempt at movement would force all of her to wake up.

But the hand that pressed gently against her hot, damp forehead was not hers, nor were the fingers brushing her hair away. She managed to open her eyes halfway, and there at her side was their father. She tried to speak, but all she managed was a groan. Her throat was scratchy and dry. She let out a quick breath, frustration growing, and tried to move again. If she could just prop herself up on one elbow, she'd have more control, maybe she'd have some of her strength back, or—

Or a soul so kind could understand her struggle and help her sit and pass her a mug of water, keeping a steady hand beneath it until she'd drunk what she would. Temporarily refreshed, Eva watched wearily as Larry put the mug back down on her bedside table.

"It's like I'm a kid again," she said, voice soft, hoping to lighten the weight of memories of past fevers and stomach bugs.

Larry sighed, the sound a short, muted laugh. "I knew I shouldn't have let you go out in the rain," he said, and though he tried to keep his tone light, Eva knew part of him really did feel responsible, and for more than just this.

"No, don't say that," she protested. "It's probably just… a fluke, or something."

"Yeah," he agreed reluctantly, "but it never feels good to know that all these accidents seem to happen to you when I'm not here to look after you."

"Dad—" She stopped short, catching her breath against a flutter of off-rhythm heartbeats. She hid her momentary discomfort behind a shake of her head. "Things just happen. It's not your fault you have to be away."

Eva knew that words could not console him, but the longer she gazed at him, the more she wanted to do something to alleviate his pain. _It must hurt,_ she thought, _to watch the one you love the most slip away like this, and you don't even know the half of it._

She reached for his hand and watched the larger fingers curl around hers. She noted the roughness of his skin and how it comforted her just to feel it against her own, still smooth because of all he did so she wouldn't have to struggle, and she wondered how it was that Peyton could forget such profound devotion. Yet she could see how his absence would facilitate that.

Human life was deeply complex, but now was not the time to think on that. Peyton was going to die, and Eva was going to see to it that Larry felt as little guilt as possible for her passing.

The words came to Eva easily, and she knew that they were more Peyton's than hers, thought in solitude and only meant to be shared in the most extreme of times. This was certainly it. "I know it seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes," she said, "but… I do. I just don't know how to tell you that. You didn't have to raise me, but you did, and you know what? You're all the family I need."

Had she more strength, she would have continued, but she was just so tired. She welcomed their father's embrace and his help lying down and all the things that reminded her of times when they'd been a little girl. He stayed until she fell asleep again, and in her final night, Eva would sleep well. She would worry about her last hours of life when the sun lit the sky and she could stare into the blue, begging for a miracle. _"There's still time."_

In her struggle to maintain appearances, she'd forgotten all about Peyton's prolonged silence, and so she knew nothing of the girl's tear-filled prayers. _"I just want everything to be okay,"_ she cried. _"I just want everything to be right."_

She'd paid attention to Eva all throughout the day, so when the once-angel slipped off into sleep, Peyton held fast to the last words Eva said as though her life depended on them, which it did.

"_There's still time."_


	12. Green Eyes

I disclaim: I wish I could say I have a part in anything related to the show, but I don't. Also, FFNet has added a few hundred words to this chapter, but ... they are not reflected in the chapter. I am baffled!

I babble: It took forever and fifteen days, but it's finally done. Thank you for taking this six month long journey with me. (It should have been shorter, but life was busy; I really appreciate your patience!) I have enjoyed it so much, and I hope you all did, too! I'd forgotten how good it feels to take risks with writing, so this was just the reminder I needed. The story and chapter titles are, in the spirit of OTH, song titles or modified versions thereof; they can all be found on my profile.

And now, after having had a glimpse of what it would be like if this story's leading lady were to be definitively written off the show, here is the final chapter.

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All Eva could think of upon waking was that she'd slept far too late. She had only a few hours left now, at best, and as she was unclear about the exact time of her intervention, she could calculate no specific hour zero. That frightened her far more than she wanted to admit.

It took her a few long minutes to regain control over her thoughts, still scattered from sleep. She didn't bother quite so much with their body. The aches were dull now, healed partially by sleep, and that was all she needed. She didn't plan on leaving the house today.

She'd missed seeing their father before he left to run some errands. She had hoped they would have a chance for a proper good-bye. Over and over, all she wanted to say to him played in her head, and when she choked back tears, she could not tell if they were Peyton's or her own.

"We could see him again if you'd just come back," Eva pleaded aloud, voice weighed down with defeat. She began in a whisper, but quickly, she grew loud, as if volume would make a difference. "Just say the word and I'll be out of here, and you can come back, and you can sleep off the change, and everything will be back the way it should be."

The effort left her almost breathless, as if she'd run up and down the stairs three or four times. There was no response. Eva had expected _something_ now that the barrier between physically present and mentally removed was so blurred. It was confusing even her. She didn't know how she'd made it downstairs without falling. Every so often, she would forget she had to stand, and she'd only remember when her knees buckled. She was starting to feel warm again, too, which didn't help matters.

She managed to fix herself a glass of water before it became too much and she had to sit. There, on the table, was Larry's note, which she'd read upon entering the room. Glancing over it again, the very last sentence stood out the most, and she realized that was the one thing she had forgotten to tell him last night.

Since there would be no proper good-bye, a note would be necessary, but only a short one. Otherwise, the whole thing would seem like a suicide, and though in some manner it was, Eva did not want to leave that behind. It would be too much for Larry, and he might go insane with guilt and grief.

It took her several long minutes of thought and unanswered questions to Peyton, but finally she settled on the most important thing. _I love you_, she wrote, and for a moment she marveled at the power such a small collection of letters, little symbols, could have.

An ache in her chest broke the spell then, and she stood and dragged herself upstairs. If they were going to die, Eva would rather they did so lying in bed. That way, everyone would be spared the added misery of seeing a bruised or otherwise injured corpse.

"_Morbid,"_ she heard faintly, and it was all Eva needed to find a glimmer of hope and cling to it.

"_It doesn't have to be,"_ she said. _"This is serious, Peyton. All you have to do is say you want to live again."_

"_But nothing's changed,"_ came another quiet response. _"It's too much."_

"_No, _this_ is too much. It's been too long. Our body's almost gone, but there's still time."_

There it was again, the sting of tears, and this time, she didn't blame Peyton for it. Eva wanted more than anything for the girl to go on living. Her existence would be meaningless otherwise.

And if Eva could see her, she'd find that Peyton was a near mirror image of her, weary with the effort to stay apart and stand her ground. The girl had never realized that obstinacy was so draining. If she directed half that energy toward something more productive, maybe things would be different. Maybe—

"Please," Eva whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, and as Peyton, filled with yearning, opened her mouth to respond, a third voice made the hair on the back of their neck stand.

"I can't believe you," stated Brooke, not even waiting until she was in the room to start, her voice low and grounded, though that hold wouldn't last long. Already Eva heard it shaking. This was going to get worse far too quickly.

Brooke didn't even let her turn before she continued, "You swear you'll back off, you try and talk me into being nice to you again or whatever the hell that was about, and next thing I know, you're running around town with him like it's all okay? You are a _liar_," she said, not missing a beat as Eva turned slowly to face her, "and a backstabber, and—just awful!"

Eva lacked the strength to protest properly, and it showed. There were dark circles under her eyes and her forehead was creased in a frown, and every inch of her looked heavy. Breathing was suddenly more difficult, but she tried. It was instinct now, this fight with their body, done almost without thought, and she barely noticed she had been shaking her head before Brooke had finished speaking.

"I needed to talk to him."

Brooke's gaze went cold. "What does that matter? I still had faith in you. I wanted to believe you, and you just—"

Her brief pause was Eva's opening. "It wasn't about you."

"I'm sure it _wasn't_. I'm sure it was about how much you've wanted to take him away from me and how terrible it makes you feel!"

"No," Eva said, shaking her head, and she could swear she heard Peyton say with her, "it's not that simple."

"It's _never_ that simple with you—"

"_No_!" Eva yelled, and the force of her voice and how visibly weak it made her rendered Brooke temporarily speechless. Though Eva had to catch her breath after speaking, she went on, ignoring how thin her voice got when she wanted to emphasize something. "You can't even _imagine_ what it's about. How much it _hurts_, how _impossible_ this is—"

"You should've thought about that before. It's not like this is the first time you've done this. You know what? You're right. I _can't_ imagine what the _hell_ goes through your head. You were my _best friend_, and I _trusted_ you!"

And that was where Eva's patience with Brooke ended. Forget the rules. Forget trying to salvage this. Peyton had asked her not to, but Eva was too angry to honor that request. She was going to tell Brooke the things Peyton did not dare to. If they died, at least they'd leave a lasting mark on _someone_, and, at this point, whether or not they were right was irrelevant.

"I trusted _you_. I needed you _so much_ when Jake left with Jenny last year, but you had too much else going on to be there. I got thrown in jail for you, I got drugged at a college party _you_ wanted us to go to, you didn't even _wait_ to see if I wanted to be with Lucas before going after him, and don't say you waited for a weekend, because that's _bull_!"

"Don't you _ever_ use what I say and do against me! Not again!"

"Remember my mom's funeral, Brooke?" And Eva had to pause, out of breath and afraid she'd lose her voice altogether amid the imminent threat of tears and the increasing disconnect between her and this body. She had less time than she'd thought; this was not good. "You said to me that you were gonna remind me of how good life was. And all you've done lately is make me hate it more. I _get_ that I screwed up, I _do_, but you are not helping me fix that."

Brooke, too, had needed a breath, and now she was calmer, but no less cutting. "You aren't helping this either. If you wanted us to ever even _possibly_ be friends again, you could _not_ go stealing my boyfriend again and again."

Eva's frustration had built up more than she had thought possible, and finally it spilled over in tears. And, oh, how her chest burned, how her wrist ached, how her knees trembled under her weight, struggling to hold her up! Brooke rolled her eyes at the display, thinking it a manipulation tactic. She'd seen it before, after all, like before the wedding, when Peyton had admitted to her continued affection for Lucas. But this time it was different, and Eva knew Brooke was oblivious to that.

The knowledge only made it all the worse, because how could she make anyone understand how dire their situation was and how badly she needed Brooke's help?

"I swear I ne—"

Whatever she had wanted to say was momentarily forgotten in the stabbing pain that erupted in her chest. She gasped, eyes wide, alarmed. It barely registered that Brooke looked frightened, too, because on top of her own fear, she had to deal with the physical effect of Peyton's dread as well.

It lasted for three more terrifying seconds, and when it stopped, she knew she had now or never to say all she wanted.

Eva swallowed against tears and pain and tried again. "I never wanted to hurt y—_ah_!"

She clutched her shirt, hand over her heart, and cast a wild gaze around the room as if help could come from somewhere; all she saw was Brooke, now more concerned, fighting the impulse to reach out to her.

It passed, and then it came again, stronger, and it robbed her legs of all their strength, and she crashed to the floor with a thud and a cry. She lifted herself up on her elbows and struggled to stay there. Brooke knelt down next to her, but Eva barely saw her. She was drawing ragged breaths now, and the tears would not stop falling.

"_Eva?"_ Peyton called, voice trembling. _"Is this—Are we dying?"_

It was so sudden and so much that Eva, struggling to stay conscious, did not notice that her words slipped in and out of thought, out loud and in her head. _"There's st—" _"—ill time!"

"Peyton? What's—" But Eva, by now a horrified, sobbing mess, didn't hear Brooke at all.

"_We—Brooke is—"_

"_Of _course_ she—"_ "—is! Oh, God, just—" "_—say it, _want_ it, Peyto—"_ "—n, just _say_ it and we'll s—" _"—urvive this, I s—"_ "—_wear_, just _please_—"

"Peyton, _what_ is going _on_?"

"_No, we can't, we—"_

"Peyton?" came a voice from downstairs, which none but Peyton seemed to really hear.

"_Dad—"_

"_Just_ s_—"_ "—_ay_ it, we're ru—" _"—nning out—"_ "—of time!"

"_Dad, he—"_ She heard his footsteps off the stairs, for he'd heard the commotion and was running to see.

"_Don't waste—"_ "—time, hurry—"

Her arms failed her then, and she fell fully onto the floor. The impact knocked the air out of her and shook her head so fiercely that she stopped talking altogether and everything blurred. It was all she could do to keep breathing, to keep her eyes open at least the slightest bit. Peyton's and Brooke's and Larry's voices were growing duller and duller. Darkness tinged the edges of her vision, and as her breathing began to slow and her awareness faded, Brooke searched for her cell phone, and Larry reached for his daughter, and Peyton yelled to the vast emptiness of the place she'd known for only one week that it mattered, it all mattered, and that she needed the chance to experience it in full.

.

It had been a long time since Eva stood in perfect silence, in the absence of all things save the thoughts and feelings she absorbed with perfect ease. She shut her golden eyes, felt her black-and-white hair brush gently against her skin when she breathed, pressed her dark-colored lips together, and, not needing to open her eyes to confirm what she already knew, she said, "Peyton."

And when she opened her eyes, there was the girl, all short blonde hair and green eyes and all she had become and all she could be. She, too, was calm, but unlike Eva, who relished the feeling, Peyton was unnerved by it. She looked left and right, up and down, trying to make sense of the endless space. What else could she call it when all she could tell it had was a floor of some sort?

She didn't turn to Eva, too absorbed in her observation of the nothing around them, but she had heard, and she did answer. "Am I dead?"

Eva waited until their eyes met before inhaling deeply and shaking her head. Peyton started to smile, but only made it halfway. Life still wasn't particularly appealing. There was still so much to deal with when she opened her eyes to daylight again. Brooke might have been scared for her near death, but that didn't mean they would be best friends again. Lucas was a wonderful friend, but she still longed for him to think of her as more. Her father loved her unconditionally, but he would leave eventually, and—

"Hey," Eva called, and she waited again until Peyton stopped obsessing about what was waiting around the corner and her attention was on the dark angel, who was in the here and now. "'To make a mountain of your life is just a choice.'"

"'Always Love,'" Peyton responded, not missing a beat. "Nada Surf."

Eva nodded. "You quoted it in your first podcast."

Peyton had to think about it for a moment, then said, "I'd forgotten."

"I figured." Smiling knowingly and giving a short, breathy chuckle, Eva nodded again. "Well, remember. Remember all the things that give you hope, because when you feel at your lowest, you'll have those lyrics, and I'll be there to sing along with you."

If Eva had told her that just a few months ago, Peyton would have laughed in her face. But after this week-long ordeal and her newfound understanding for what Eva did, she believed it. Cruel though her angel, her voice, whatever she was called might be, she had Peyton's best interest in mind. Peyton wished she'd had a mother to be that for her instead, but she pushed the thought away. She'd see both of them again someday, and Eva wasn't so terrible after all.

"They'd be proud of you, y'know," Eva remarked, breaking Peyton's train of thought again. "Anna. Ellie. They'd be proud you didn't give up."

Peyton nodded, blinking back tears. "I know."

"Don't get used to this whole me being nice thing, by the way," Eva said, smile now a smirk and eyebrow arched in customary contempt. "Gotta keep you moving forward. Life's tough, and I'm tougher."

Peyton rolled her eyes, nodded, and smiled. "I figured."

The girl looked away again, and Eva blocked out her thoughts and concerns over life, content just to watch her. For all that she had gone through, Peyton was relatively unscathed. She pretended to be cynical and jaded, hiding behind her music and her art, but inside, she was full of hope. Part of her was convinced that all her suffering would end one day and she would be happy. All the mistakes she made and the opposition she encountered only strengthened her faith in the future, deny it though she might.

It was all possible, too. She had the potential to be successful in all she chose. Eva wanted that as badly as Peyton did. Unlike the girl, she was steady, unaffected, and could be that voice for her when anxiety threatened to become panic.

Standing there, facing her, Eva let Peyton's musings permeate her awareness. All the inner turmoil, all the hopes and dreams, all the unrequited feelings filled her to the brim. It was the breath of life to her. Things were as they should be.

When she tuned into their surroundings again, she found Peyton standing with her eyes closed, lips moving in a muted prayer, perhaps – Eva let her have that scrap of privacy. The dark angel waited until she seemed to be done before speaking.

"Listen, this can't happen again."

Peyton didn't need specifics to understand. She nodded.

"I risked everything for us, and I'm glad it worked out, but—"

"I know," Peyton interrupted. "And thank you."

Eva inhaled deeply, gave a short nod, and stepped toward Peyton. Golden eyes met green ones, both serious and unblinking, then the one in black gave her customary, smug grin. "Are you ready to wake up?"

And Peyton, reassured by her inner voice, smiled as well. "Yeah."

They both closed their eyes, and when next they opened, green and calm, they were greeted by sunlight and warmth and possibility.


End file.
